


Joke's On You

by Diana_Raven



Series: Robin!Reversal [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bart Allen is Kid Flash, Batfamily Emotional Constipation, Batmom!Alfred, Bruce tries to be a good dad, Cassandra Cain is Batgirl, Damian Wayne is Nightwing, Damian is a bad brother, Gen, I love angst, Jason Todd is Robin, Jon Lane Kent is Flamebird, Lots of Angst, MAYBE IN THE SEQUEL BUT EVENTUALLY IT WILL HAPPEN, Robin!Reversal, Stephanie Brown is Oracle, THEY'LL BE EXPLAINED EVENTUALLY, THEY'RE NOT PLOT HOLES, Tim Drake is Red Hood, Traya Sutton exists because I love her and her sibling relationship with the yj crew, Traya Sutton is Zephyr, also hinted timkon, because alfred is the best mom, btw i'm obsessed with this au help, but he'd bad at that, but he's trying okay, cuz im a timkon slut, gettit?, hinted harlivy, hints of aroace damian, i mean like in the overall scheme but they are still there, obviously they're not yj in this because yeah, oh well i guess that's what fanfiction is for, so much fun to write, someone save me, sorry i had to write one, tbh he's only Nightwing cuz Jon talked him into matching, the ocs are like not important, though that took some really annoying thinking through, which is a name i created for her because damnit she should be a canon superhero, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:47:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9981407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Raven/pseuds/Diana_Raven
Summary: Tim Drake moves back to Gotham for one reason and one alone--to kill the Joker, alas his family won't let him.





	1. A Life in the Family

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by WhatAreAllTheseTears (ffn)/ @ilovebeingintroverted (tumblr)
> 
> So like a lot of this story is very RR-esque because I'm a Red Robin fan so... oh and yeah, all of the titles are like puns and things or things that Tim had said. Also there are some things which are actually taken from Red Robin comics so like... that is a thing that I do not claim credit to. 
> 
> Also yeah Damian was forced into being Nightwing by Jon who is Flamebird.

The bubbling green liquid of the Lazarus Pit burned Tim’s eyes. His body spasmed and all he knew was that he had to get out. He curled his arms, pulling and tearing at the leather bindings that held him down. He ripped the ankle restraints off and climbed out of the Pit. Adrenaline pumped through his body, his heart pounded and his breathing was heavy. His muscles were taut and his eyes couldn’t seem to look at one thing for more than a few seconds. Everything was bright and loud and god, where he used to be was so quiet. So peaceful. But now he saw pain, he heard pain, he was pain.

Tim roared.

Tim took in his surroundings. There were people around him, judging by their outfits… Assassins. The League. His mind caught up to his subconscious. The League had revived him in the Lazarus Pit. How long had it been? How long had he been dead? Overwhelming rage frothed within him. One of the ninjas attacked, Tim fought back. Fists flew out, fast and deadly. He wasn’t holding back. Not that he’d ever had to with the League of Assassins. But there were so many, and Tim could only fight so much.

He screamed as they dogpiled on him, hoping to restrain him. Tim struggled but couldn’t move. His memory was foggy, all he remembered was an incessant ticking noise and pain. Pain that struck in bursts, first his legs, his chest, his head, his chest again, his head again, his legs again. Over and over. A flash of something metal that made his mouth taste like iron. And a laugh. A maniac laugh that half of Gotham was familiar with. One that always incited fear.

Tim was on his knees. Head bent down as someone shackled his wrists behind him. The clicking of footsteps, _click click click click_. Boots, he knew the sound of boots well. A sweeping green rope. Everything looked green, everyone looked green. Tim knew they weren’t really green, his brain came up with an explanation for the coloration of his captors’ skin easily—it was the reflection of the luminescent green boiling waters in the Pit below—but for some reason Tim couldn’t help think that the color fit the League well. The color of greed, of envy, of will, of life.

Ra’s robe was a different green than the Pit’s. His was richer, darker, more dangerous. He bent down, eyes studied Tim. “He will have to do. Take him away.”

Why was he doing this? What was he planning? And why, sweet heaven above, _why_ had Ra’s revived Tim?

Tim struggled when the ninjas dragged him away, but it was to no avail. Tim was screaming words, sentences even, though he couldn’t comprehend why he was screaming or what he was saying. He just needed to get to Ra’s. He needed to kill Ra’s.

The room the assassins threw Tim in was less of a room and more of a cage. There was a bed, a toilet, and metal bars separating Tim from the rest of the world. As if to protect Tim from it, or to protect it from him. The assassins had unshackled him. Tim stared at his hands, marveling at how clean they were. The Lazarus Pit didn’t just clean away sins, it cleaned away dirt. Tim ran the fingers of one hand over the palm of the other, his skin was soft. When he tensed the texture changed, now it was taut, not coarse but taut. It felt like stretched leather.

Tim’s rage had left him, his heart beat at a normal (healthy) pace. One of Ra’s henchwomen stood at the door. She stared at Tim, watching him as if she would unravel his secrets if she stared long enough.

She wouldn’t.

Tim examined the rest of his body, touching his face, testing his flexibility, looking for past scars. He found them in abundance, apparently the Lazarus Pit didn’t get rid of past healed injuries. He had no stubble on his still rather premature face. His body was stiff but had lost no elasticity. Tim began to stretch. His guard watched him interestedly but said nothing.

Footsteps jarred him from his exercises and Ra’s appeared again, Talia at his side this time. One of Ra’s bodyguards held a food tray. He slipped the tray through a small slot at the bottom of the columns of iron bars. Tim hesitated before poking at the food. He sniffed at it warily. His caution made Ra’s crack a smile. Tim didn’t think that a smile suited him.

“Just like the Detective. Always suspicious.”

Tim said nothing.

“Fear not, Little Detective.  I have no reason to poison or drug you. Your food is safe.”

Tim didn’t believe him. He was in the dark about all of Ra’s motives and denying that he had any didn’t make Tim’s qualms disappear.

“I would like for you to answer me. I need to know, Little Detective, do you know your name?”

“Tim. My name is Tim Drake.” Tim’s voice was hoarse, unused. He didn’t want to speak, especially not to Ra’s. But he figured he would have to give a little to learn more about Ra’s plan for him.

“Very good.” Tim gritted his teeth. The praise was like slime, it slithered into his ears and made the little hairs on the back of Tim’s neck rise. “Do you know who I am?”

“You are Ra’s Al Ghul. The leader of the League of Assassins.” And the grandfather to the most annoying superhero in the world.

“Very good. What is your relationship to your mentor, the Detective?”

The Detective. Bruce. Batman. His mentor. His father. The memory of the warehouse flashed back: the Joker’s laugh, the ticking of the bomb, the mantra _don’t worry, Bruce will come, he won’t give up, he’ll be here,_ the world ending noise that signaled the bomb going off, the final desperate thought: _I’m so glad Bruce isn’t here_. “I am Robin.”

“Were. You were Robin. And now, you are mine.”


	2. I'm Sure As Hell Not Robin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> betaed by my usual

Tim’s hands shook as he took the coffee from the barista. “You okay there, Alvin?” The barista asked, concerned. Tim gave her what he knew was a weak smile. They knew him as Alvin Draper, he’d been coming here for almost a year now, every day, the same order. It had been sixteen months, fourteen days, and seven hours since he’d escaped the League of Assassins after they brought him back. He still had panic attacks sometimes, he relived his death and rebirth. His hands had stopped shaking during his time with the League, them starting again had been a recent development. A two minute ago development.

“Yeah, thanks Ann.” Tim took a sip of his coffee and glanced back up at the TV screen above the counter. “Just… the Joker, you know?” He nodded to where he was looking. The anchor mentioned a quick list of the Joker’s past crimes (only the big ones). Tim couldn’t help but notice that his death wasn’t mentioned.

Ann glanced up at the screen. “Oh, yeah.  He freaks me out too. I can’t believe he broke out of that asylum _again_. You know, sometimes I’m really glad we live in Bludhaven. I’d be terrified to live in Gotham with all those crazies running around.”

“Yeah. It must be pretty scary to live there.” This was the first time the Joker had been out since Tim came back. Tim had learned in the League that Bruce hadn’t killed him, and Tim has mixed feelings about that. Bruce’s number one rule was not killing so it made sense, plus Bruce couldn’t kill. If he killed he’d go all in, be as bad as those he fought. At least that was what he said. Tim used to believe him, too. Bruce couldn’t kill, killing for him opened a door, a door he wouldn’t be able to close. But sometimes Tim wondered if Bruce would have killed Damian’s killer, that is if the guy ever died. Tim had been in Bludhaven almost a year and he had yet to hear of Nightwing being even close to hurt. Damian Wayne the heir of Wayne Enterprises had moved to Bludhaven to head the WE’s largest office outside of Gotham and Metropolis.

“Hey, Alvin.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you… maybe want to go out sometime?”

Shit. “I’d love to Ann, but I can’t. I’m leaving Bludhaven in an hour or so.”

“Oh. You are? You haven’t said anything about it…”

“Yeah, it was a sort of recent decision,” about three minutes ago actually, “something came up.”

“Oh yeah? Is it family related?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I hope it all works out for you.”

“Thanks Ann.” Tim said with a grin. He felt kind of bad for dropping this on her so he left her an extra tip. “Have a good life.”

“You too Alvin Draper.” 

* * *

 

The walk to Tim’s makeshift home was short and the home itself wasn’t large. It didn’t have much in it though so that didn’t matter. Just a bed, a backpack, a laptop, and a bathroom. Tim opened the backpack and took a sniff of the clothes inside, nothing fancy just a couple of t-shirts and a couple of jeans. (Alfred would be so disappointed). The clothes passed the sniff test and Tim walked to the train station.

The train out of Bludhaven was near empty (two men, one around forty and wearing a trench coat, one twenty with headphones stuck into his ears; one woman maybe in her thirties; and one grandfather with two sleeping grandchildren), which made sense since it was around eleven at night. At the last stop before the train left Bludhaven a teenager got on. Tim watched her move in the reflection in the window. She paused as the train doors closed and then chose to sit right next to Tim. The train pulled away from the station and Tim continued to watch the blackness out the window. The girl beside him fiddled with the zipper on her jacket. A minute or so passed and she took something out of her pocket. A burner phone. Tim glanced at the backpack on her knees. Worn, a small button with the words _Batman is my Patronus_ shined dully _._ She tugged at the black fingerless gloves on her hands before flipping open the burner phone. She dialed something and held the phone to her ear, a stylized yellow R was stitched into the gloves. She paused and then closed the phone.

“Runaway?” Tim couldn’t believe he was speaking to her. Or speaking at all. He didn’t want to get into it but…

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. I always wanted to go to Gotham, so...” She laughed sheepishly. “Here I am.”

“ _Why_?”

“Huh?”

“Why would you want to go to Gotham?”

“Because… because,”

“Listen your parents are probably going to be worried sick about you, and going to Gotham, that’s a death sentence for a runaway.”

“Oh yeah? Where do you get off telling me what to do?”

“Look, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What? Are you saying this just because I’m a girl?”

“No. I’m saying this because you shouldn’t go to Gotham. The Joker just got out and being there is probably a horrible idea.”

“Oh yeah? So why are you going back?”

Tim didn’t look at her. “Unfinished business.”

The girl snorted. “You know what, screw you.” She told him before standing up and moving to a different seat. Tim sighed. Well, he tried. Tim looked back out the window and watched as darkness whirled past.

Tim jerked awake when the doors opened, “ _Gotham Central Station_.” The automated voice of the train said. Tim glanced at the seat where the girl had been but she was already gone. Tim hoped she had gotten off at an earlier stop and went home but that was probably optimistic.

Gotham hadn’t changed a bit. The platform Tim stepped on was clearly grimier than the train was. The station looked almost abandoned. A cracked clock hung on the wall, overlooking the platforms like a Batsymbol. A ticket booth held the only other life on the platform, a bored pimply teller who was scrolling on his phone. Tim pulled his hood over his head as he passed under the security camera. He stuffed his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and halted outside the station. He took a deep breath, cold dank air that smelt heavily of smoke.

Home sweet home.

A plastic bag blew past him in the gutter and he heard a league of sirens somewhere in the distance.  A gunshot echoed to his right and he heard a shriek (whether it was from joy or fear he couldn’t tell). It was good to be back. He kicked an empty beer bottle and walked down the street, he wasn’t quite sure where he was going.

The streets of Gotham were either small alleyways or two lane streets, some deserted, some busy. Sidewalks were litter heavy and it had rained recently so the smell rose from the overflowing sewers. As Tim walked he saw people going through their regular day, drug deals, couples huddling close to one another, drunk men clapping their friends on the shoulders, a group of strippers smoking and discussing politics. A police car rushed by and drove through a puddle, splashing pedestrians who swore loudly at the driver. Moths flittered making shadows against the buzzing street lamps.

Wayne Enterprises hung over the rest of the buildings like a disappointed father, bright lights shining down at an imaginary Gotham.  One where there were no vigilantes, where every neighborhood wasn’t the ‘bad neighborhood’, where the government officials weren’t corrupt, and where the Knights could actually win a game. Wayne Enterprises watched over the city like it was Lexcorp over Metropolis or Kord Industries over Chicago. But it wasn’t. And Gotham wasn’t anywhere else in the world.

Tim glanced to his left, looking at the stores he walked by. Most were closed, which made sense because it was one in the morning, a couple were open. Some bars, some tattoo parlors, some take out places. The one that surprised him was the motorcycle gear store. Tim stopped in front of it, eyes running over the helmets, ones that just covered the cap of a head, ones that went down to the chin, others that just had a visor that went down to the nose. A red one caught Tim’s attention but it was quickly torn away by a scream.

_The call of my people_. Before Tim knew it he was running to the source. He skidded outside the alley entrance way. Tim poked his head into the mouth of the alley, inside a woman screamed as three men trapped her. What was he _doing_? Tim wasn’t a hero anymore. Tim shook his head, the woman hadn’t seen him yet… he could just back away, call the police. But it would be over before they even got here! Why was he even thinking about abandoning her? She could get hurt, or worse!

It was the blade that spurred Tim into action. One of the bozos had flicked out his pocketknife. He had this disgusting smile and Tim gave him a kick between his legs and a hit to the back so he went to the ground quickly. While the brute curled up on the ground in pain Tim snatched the knife from his hands.

“Hey, man! What the fuck?” One of the others shouted. He went for something in his pocket and Tim sent him stumbling backward into the wall with a kick to the chest. He hit his head hard and groaned as he fell to the dirty alley ground.

The third looked from his buddy’s hand in Tim’s hand to his other comrade groaning on the ground and shook his head, terrified. “Uh-uh.” He stated walking backwards. “I ain’t here for no Bat shit.” He turned on his heel and ran.

Tim turned back to the woman who flinched in terror. “A-are you Batman?”

Tim almost laughed at the absurd question. Instead he just dropped the knife into her trembling hands. He shoved his into his pockets as he felt the them beginning to copy hers. His breathing was fast and his heart pounded in his ears.

That had felt good, but he was out of practice if this was his reaction to the adrenaline rush. He walked back out of the alleyway and looked up. A deep breath of chilly air righted his mind and the cloudy blue night sky gave him a sense of calm.

First things first he needed a room; apartment or hotel he didn’t care. Tim took a right down an alley then stopped. The old movie theater in front of him was striking. He could almost see it as it had been when Bruce’s story had originated. Bruce had taken him here once, seven or so years ago. It had been important for Tim to see this place, this place that had borne his alter-ego. The place that had borne him. It looked the same, abandoned, neglected.

Why hadn’t Tim realized he was this close to Crime Alley?

The street was deserted. The apartments around him soundless, lifeless. Tim quickly dashed the idea from his brain. He couldn’t live here. Not here. Too obvious. Too… Bruce. This place, it reeked of Bruce. Tim didn’t realize his body was shaking until he tried to take a step and his legs crumbled, leaving him on the ground trying to catch his breath.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. In the past three hours Tim had panicked more than he had in the six months before that. But the overwhelming urge to stay in Gotham, the urge to stay here. Tim stared at his hands, and watched as they curled in the gravel below him. He clenched them, letting the rocks and dirt bite into his fingers and palms. He had to find the Joker. He had to make sure that he would never do this to anyone ever again. No one should _ever_ have to feel like a victim ever again. Especially at that mad man’s hands.

Tim didn’t know how long he kneeled in that alley, but eventually his rage and anxiety subsided and he stood. He made a list in his head as he walked. Tim liked lists. He liked that they were ordered, and that they outlined his plan (whatever his plan happened to be).

  1. Figure out where to live
  2. Figure out what to do
  3. Figure out how to do it
  4. Figure out who to do it with
  5. Figure out who to do it against



Admittedly, not the most detailed list. But everyone had to start somewhere.

He had answers to 2 and 5. What to do? Kill the Joker. Who to do it against? … the Joker…

Okay, he should think that through a little more. Killing… killing was a big step. Tim had never killed before. Before… before he had been brought back.

_“You want me to kill him?” Tim asked uncertainly. The man in the chair in front of him screamed, pulling at the restraints that held him to the chair. Ra’s nodded. “Why? He hasn’t done anything.”_

_Ra’s narrowed his eyes. “It shouldn’t matter why. I said he should die, so he should.”_

_Tim looked at the knife in his hand. This-this was wrong. This was all wrong. His hands shook and the knife slipped from his palm. Tim gasped and jumped back, avoiding the falling weapon. Killing… killing was_ wrong _. Sure he’d seen Ra’s do it before but it was different then, it was different when he was supposed to be the one to do it._

Tim stumbled against a building, trying to catch his breath. It had been a while time since Tim’s last flashback. Almost a month. Tim glanced around, he couldn’t see anyone. Good, at least he could lose his mind in peace. Tim glanced up. The hazy dark blue sky pulled him towards it, and soon he was climbing up a fire escape. Once he was on the building he’d climbed, he looked over his city.

Everything looked better from up here. Even Crime Alley.

Tim rubbed his hands together, the climb up had made them raw. The metal had been cold. He could feel the small scratches from earlier, his breakdown in the alley. Huh, his calluses were coming back. It took them long enough, apparently the Pit took those away too. His time with the League had gotten him back into shape, but the calluses from climbing, from scaling Gotham, hadn’t come back. He’d climbed buildings in Bludhaven too, but not as much. Tim hated the guy but Damian _was_ more observant than his father, a guy fighting crime and running on rooftops would have hit his radar.

A symbol burned against the black of the night sky. It shown there, yellowish white against blueish black. It was the symbol of fear and hope (each to their own). It was the only thing that kept this goddamned city together and Tim would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed it. He would be lying if he denied that it made his heart speed up and that it made him want to bounce with excitement (it had been too long since he’d had that feeling. Way too long). Somewhere in the city of Gotham, Batman was needed.

Tim was running before he knew it, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. The wind whipped past in and he felt engulfed by the smell of the city. Tim skidded to a stop before downtown. He had no grappling hooks and the rooftops of downtown were significantly higher than the rest of the architecture of the city and significantly farther away. He’d just have to be content from the roof he was on. Tim sat and stared up on the skyline.

It was the flicker of movement by the large bank and Tim narrowed his eyes… Was that purple he spotted?

He couldn’t believe Steph was still running around with Bruce. Man… he’d missed her.

Oh shit.

Steph was going to kill him when she found out.

_Shit_.

Ooooh… Tim was so dead. Alfred was going to kill him too. Not outright, but he was going to be disappointed in him from afar and that’s like death.

Tim narrowed his eyes and watched as a figure moved on the rooftop of the police station. The light of the Batsymbol switched off and Tim watched as the Batman grappled away. He swung through the dimly lit city and Tim could have sworn he saw a smaller figure follow Bruce. Probably Steph. Huh, well look at that, they were coming his way.

Tim watched as they swung a few blocks past him. Tim didn’t get a good look at them, but he couldn’t help himself from following. Tim hopped from rooftop to rooftop until he found himself a little south of the East End. Tim stopped to catch his breath and frowned, man he was out of shape. Tim glanced ahead of him, looking around. _Damn_ , he’d lost them. Well, he definitely needed to start practicing again. And without Damian he’d be able to run rooftops. Batman couldn’t be everywhere, until Tim got a plan down for killing the Joker (the thought itself seemed to weird Tim out but he was determined. It was the Joker’s time. Tim had come to peace with that) he could save the city.

One mugging at a time.

Tim checked his phone. Technically it wasn’t a real phone, not a real one with internet connection, but it was a burner and burners did have clocks, and technically they could also send and receive messages and calls so he guessed it _could_ be counted as a real phone. His phone stated that it was one fifty-three AM.

Tim heard a screech and a crash. Sounded like Brucie. He wondered if he could find an open Starbucks anywhere.

Thirty minutes later and with a warm coffee in his hands (where it should be) Tim sat on a roof. The roof was dirty and was covered in gravel and he was sure that the small pieces of red fabric that seemed melted onto the roof (and covered in gravel) were at some point part of some type of lacy dress or thong but how it got there and became melted to the roof would probably be an eternal mystery. Tim took a nice long warm sip. It was one of the rare moments that Gotham city seemed quiet. As much as Tim liked the quiet it felt wrong in Gotham, somehow. Just… _wrong_. 

Tim jumped up when he heard the sound of a grapple firing. He only knew a few people who fired grapples in this city. Tim looked around, taking another sip of his coffee. Was that some movement over there? Tim glanced at his coffee, should he leave it or chug it?

Chug it.

Definitely chug it.

With the aftertaste of bitter coffee burning down Tim’s throat he took off. Somewhere around a couple of blocks down he heard some voices. Voices that Tim did not recognize. Tim frowned, and slipped onto the rooftop. He leaned against the chimney and listened.

“-Didja see that? I was awesome, Cass! Just _woosh_! And bam! And-Hey give that back!”

“No more caffeine for you.” Tim could hear the amusement in the girl’s voice. But he didn’t recognize either of them. Tim peeked around the chimney and frowned. Their costumes didn’t even look familiar.

The girl (the only way Tim could tell that one was a girl was because she had breasts and less padding around her crotch) looked like she’d taken a slice out of Damian’s book. No purple at all, just black and a rim of yellow around the cape and the boots. Her mask was stitched up over her mouth and Tim frowned, talk about assassin. The boy—the Robin. He was obviously Robin, the yellow R on his costume was obvious. The outfit was different than his was, more… _yellow_. And red. How did Bruce expect him to stay camouflaged? Tim narrowed his eyes. Where was Stephanie? The Batgirl (she was probably called Batgirl, Bruce wasn’t that creative), definitely wasn’t Steph, she was way too small and way too short. What had Robin called her? Cass?

Cass dumped the coffee from the disposable coffee cup onto the roof and Robin cried out. Tim sympathized with the kid, after all he himself was a coffeeholic. Wasn’t it a school night? What was Bruce doing letting him out this late?

Robin opened his mouth to say something and then they both cocked their heads to the side. Listening for something. Tim assumed it was comms but they could have heard him so he held his breath, just for good measure. Judging by the way that they began taking their grappling hooks out of their belts, it was probably comms and Robin said something that Tim didn’t quite catch. They were off again and Tim sighed. At this time of night patrol was over and they were probably headed back to Wayne Manor. Tim didn’t want to chase them.

Tim knew he wasn’t going to sleep that night but he figured he would need to scope out a motel anyway. At least until he could find an apartment. Tim found a place not too far from Park Row that was a business-men-bring-pretty-ladies-and-no-questions-are-asked type of place. Tim figured it was as good as he was going to get.

Tim made a list of necessities.

  * Mask/uniform of some type
  * Weapons
  * Find out where Steph was
  * Recon on Neo-Robin and Neo-Batgirl
  * Figure out details for the first list



That was all he could do at this time of day. Tim dropped his stuff off in the room and locked the door behind him. He wandered up to the roof, seeing what he could get to from this building.

Tim glanced at his phone again. Five seventeen AM. Stores would open soon. It was time to get to work.

The sunrise over Gotham was breathtaking. 

* * *

 

“You sure about that one?” The guy behind the counter asked. He frowned as he went into the back and took out a boxed one. “We only have it in ‘ticket me red’.”

“Yeah.” Tim said softly. “It speaks to me.” _Yeah, and it says ‘hey wouldn’t it be perfectly ironic for the Joker to be taken out by some dude wearing a red hood_ ’ ... _Or helmet of some kind._

“Whatever, dude. What kind of bike did you say you had?”

“I didn’t.”

The guy raised an eyebrow, but handed over the motorcycle helmet. “Well, she’s really tough but too many hits to the head and you’ll want to find yourself a new one.”

“Thanks. How much?”

“Thirty even.” Tim handed over a wad of cash. Tim placed the helmet box under his arm and left the bike store.

Next on his list were the parts of the oxygen filters which he would need to build and then secure to the mask. After that he would need to get a few more weapons and he would need to decide where to put them. He could always go with a classic approach, a belt, or he could do something a little less easy to get rid of, a little less out in the open… maybe a jacket? He’d need to sew on more pockets and he’d need extras.

He’d already decided on a name—Red Hood—after the Joker’s first criminal pseudonym. What could he say? Tim liked irony. He wouldn’t go with a theme, that was too easy to predict. He wanted to keep whoever followed him guessing, that was if Batman and his new Robin would even come across him. Gotham was a big city, and believing that he could get away with killing the city’s worst villain could even be possible. But it would be foolish to believe whatever Tim would come up with would be fool proof.

Tim backtracked down the block, what had he just seen? No… it couldn’t be… But it was. Tim stared at the costume shop across the street. It shouldn’t have been that ridiculous, because Tim guessed that people in Gotham _would_ have to buy costumes at some point in their lives, but there was a certain humor in this city having shops like that. As if not enough people spent their days and nights running around in spandex or leather. Tim was inside before he knew it, the bell at the top of the door rung so he couldn’t back out now.

“Hello?” Someone called from within the racks and racks of costumes.

“Hello?” Tim called back.

“One second!” The person called, there was a pattering of steps and a small girl pushed aside some costumes on a rack and stepped through it. She smiled at Tim. “How can I help you?” She asked, proudly.

“Um…” How _could_ she help him? “You… don’t happen to have a Robin mask, do you?” Tim knew it was a weird question but he couldn’t help but ask it.

The girl chewed on her lip. “Which mask? The First’s, Second’s, or Third’s?”

“There’s more than one?” Of course Tim knew there was more than one. His mask had been a lighter color than Damian’s and from what he saw last night the new Robin’s was lighter still, and it seemed to be shaped a little differently too.

“Oh sure. You know not a lot of costume shops know there’s a difference, but we do! See, each Robin is very different and each of their costumes reflect that. We tried to get them as close as possible to what they are but seeing as we don’t have any authentic ones we’ve had to go off of personal accounts and the slim number of pictures that are out there.” Boy, wouldn’t this girl love to see his stash of pictures… which were still probably at the manor. Tim sighed internally, he figured he would have to go back eventually (to see Steph, if she wasn’t out heroing she _had_ to be there, probably was on house arrest for one thing or another), but he hadn’t wanted it to be this soon. He could go a few weeks without his pictures stash. He could.  “Uh… second then, please.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Really?” She quickly recovered and went behind the counter. “I mean, we barely ever get requests for the second Robin.” She ducked down under the counter.

“Why not?” Tim asked, wondering if he should feel offended.

“Well, anyone old enough to comprehend his death remembers it. It was a dark day for us Gothamites, there were theories about what had happened until a couple weeks after, since he hadn’t been seen in a while everyone assumed he’d either quit and become another hero like the first one but then the first one came back and Batgirl went patrolling around and no one saw him and then Batman finally caught the Joker at a LexCorp Gala and went ballistic. Nightwing and Batgirl had to _protect_ the _Joker_. It was all over the news. That was when everyone realized something bad had happened to him, something really bad.” She popped back up and handed him the mask. “I guess no one wants their kids to dress up as a dead Robin. Anyway, here you go.”

“You’re very talkative.” Tim said as he took it. It was surreal, it looked like an exact replica of his domino mask but thinner (it didn’t have any of the technology in it).

The girl blushed. “Sorry.” She said.

Tim waved it off. “No, it’s cute. So how much?”

“You know what, it’s on the house. He needs more attention, and if you give it to him then it’s a service to the community.”

“Thanks.” 

* * *

 

His hotel room was full of… things. More full of things than any room of his since the resurrection had ever been. A laptop, five new jackets, two new pairs of boots, four pairs of cargo pants, the materials he would need to build his filters, infrared and ultraviolet sensors, weapons (grenades, blades, bullets, anything he could find), a Kevlar vest, a box of newly sharpened pencils and a notebook, his new motorcycle helmet, his domino mask, glue, and a _really_ sharp pair of scissors.

Tim sat down and got to work. First he stripped the unnecessary insides of his motorcycle helmet, then he quickly put together his filters. Putting them together was easy, making sure they worked could be deadly. Eh, Tim could worry about testing it later. Then he added the sensors to his mask, sticking his head in to make sure it still fit with the amount of tech inside.

Next he found every pocket in one of his jackets: five. Plus the pockets in his cargo pants would be eleven. Tim counted how many pockets he’d have free. Tim would need at least two guns on him, but he could use shoulder holsters, he would need one pocket devoted to smoke bombs, one pocket devoted to regular bombs, one would have duct tape and glue, one would have two grappling hooks with extra reels, one for lock picks (digital and non), one with a forensics kit, one with a camera and a laser. So he had four pockets left. Knives could be strapped onto his arms and legs. He figured he could fill one of those four pockets with extra ammunition (no one could ever have too much of that).  Well, having extra pockets could always come in handy.

Tim took out his notebook and one of the pencils, he began writing down what he needed on his next shopping trip. A shoulder holster, grappling hooks plus the reels, forensics kit, a camera and a laser. He also needed to program his digital lock pick. Tim wrote down his lists and began checking things off.

  1. Figure out where to live
  2. Figure out what to do
  3. Figure out how to do it
  4. Figure out who to do it with
  5. Figure out who to do it against



And

  * Mask/uniform of some type
  * Weapons
  * Find out where Steph was
  * Recon on Neo-Robin and Neo-Batgirl
  * Figure out details for the first list



He could check off ‘figure out what to do,’ that one he knew. He was going to kill the Joker. ‘Figure out who to do it against’ was pretty self-explanatory with the answer to the last question. ‘Figure out where to live’ was a little less important since he had the hotel room, but he would like a more private and permanent address. He had a ‘mask/uniform,’ he’d decided on the red mask, the jacket and the cargo pants. Not flashy with a cape but not everyone had the unlimited supplies that Bruce did. ‘Weapons’ he more or less had covered, of course, one could never have too many weapons.

Tim loaded up his pants with what he had. Then he opened his laptop and began to catch up on the Gotham news. He’d avoided followed tags related to his hometown, and hacking into the police stations and the Gotham Gazette offices for information since his resurrection. He hadn’t wanted to come back here under these circumstances. He’d wanted to have some space.

That was out of the question now.

He followed the hashtags #thebatman, #gotham, #robin, #batgirl, and #callingallbats (a tag that served as a sort of forum for anyone who wanted to speak to the Batman or his protégés or an appeal to The Batman for whatever the poster was upset about), setting an algorithm for anything that seemed important. While he let the program run he ran a similar algorithm for the police reports going back five years. Then he looked over archived copies of Gotham Gazettes, skimming headlines.

The headlines were more or less routine, BATMAN JAILS MR. FREEZE AFTER FOURTH OF JULY FREEZE; CATWOMAN AND BATMAN—A COUPLE?; GOTHAM SIRENS FIGHT THE PENGUIN AND THE RIDDLER, COPS GET KILLED IN CROSSFIRE; BATMAN AND SUPERMAN, A FRIENDSHIP OF THE AGES; GOTHAM’S TEEN TITANS; GIRLS OF GOTHAM: BATGIRL, CATWOMAN, POISON IVY, AND HARLEY QUINN (byline by Vicki Vale. Tim snorted, _figured_ ); THE BATMAN AND HIS SON, IF NIGHTWING DOESN’T TRUST HIM WHY SHOULD WE?; ROBIN AND BATGIRL—THE REPLACEMENTS. That stopped Tim in his tracks, he knew that the new Batgirl obviously wasn’t Steph, but _replacement_? Tim refined his search to headlines only containing Batgirl mentions when he found it.

BATGIRL SHOT DURING JOKER ATTACK—WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR GOTHAM?

Tim heard the dings signalizing the finishing of his algorithms but he couldn’t move. He sat on his bed silently, he just stared at the screen. His heart beat and he knew he had to work, he had to finish his research. But he couldn’t. Steph had been shot. Steph had been shot by the _Joker_. He clicked the enter key a second time by mistake, and another headline popped up. Proving his worst fear.

AFTER FIVE WEEK ABSENCE, NEW BATGIRL APPEARS. WHAT HAPPENED TO GOTHAM’S LAST FEMALE CRUSADER?

This Cass. This new Batgirl. Steph had been hurt (only hurt, just _hurt_ , she couldn’t have been more! She couldn’t have!) and had to quit, and now there was a new Batgirl.

Why the fuck hadn't Bruce killed the Joker yet?

Tim took in a shaky breath and returned to his recon. The Joker would pay.


	3. Hit List

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> betaed by the usual
> 
> a lot of scene changes in this chapter sorry

After Tim had gone shopping for the tools he was missing he saddled up his pants and jacket. Tim then made a list of Gothamites he was going to look up.

  1. Catwoman
  2. The Penguin
  3. Commissioner Gordon
  4. Vicki Vale
  5. Harley Quinn



These people were intimately connected to Gotham, if he wanted to know _anything_ about what had happened in the last five years since he died they would know. Tim paused as he read the list over. His pencil hovered over paper, itching to write out a name. Tim couldn’t help himself.  He had to check in on him.

  1. Alfred Pennyworth



Next he dressed in his new uniform. He stared at the domino mask (his only impulse buy) before stuffing it in one of his numerous pockets. Then he placed the mask over his head. He took one last look in the mirror, recognizing his new look. The Red Hood. Tim ripped his latest list out of the notebook and stuffed it into his jacket. Then he glanced at his watch. Nine fifty two PM. Time to go.

When he ran across Gotham he felt wind whip around his uniform. He couldn’t feel it through his rather overgrown hair because of the mask, he missed that. He took out a grappling hook when he got to the end of the part of town he was in and shot it out, it wound around a piece of iron holding up a gargoyle and Tim swung. For the first time in years he _swung_. God, he had missed that. He landed on the gargoyle and unhooked his grapple before firing it again and then swinging once more. It was almost as good as flying.

When he finally crossed downtown he went straight to the first name on his list. Selina Kyle’s.

Selina Kyle smiled as she pet her black cat. The cat purred and rubbed its head against Selina’s leather glove. Selina used one of her claws to scratch under the cat’s chin. Tim slipped open her window and she jumped backwards, claws out.

“I’m not here to hurt you Selina, I just want to talk.” Tim said as he slipped out of the night air and into her apartment.

“How do you know my name?” Selina’s cat hissed at Tim. Tim glared at it and it licked a paw, deciding that it had said its piece and now wished to ignore him.

“I know your address; why wouldn’t I know your name?”

“How do you know my address, then?”

Tim sighed. “Look, Selina that’s not really importan-“ Selina pounced, and Tim rolled his eyes behind his mask. Tim blocked Selina’s punch and grabbed her wrist. He slammed her front into the closest wall and sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you Selina.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem that way to me.” It was the grim smile that slithered onto Selina’s lips that made Tim release her.

“Ew, Selina. Just… ew.”

Selina frowned. “Do I _know_ you?”

Tim barked a laugh. “Well, my voice has changed a little.” Tim slipped the hood off his face. “Recognize me now?”

“No.”

Tim sighed. He didn’t want to have to do this but… Tim stuffed a hand in his pocket and Selina flexed her claws. “Just getting a clue…” Tim told her, but Selina didn’t relax. Tim slipped on the domino mask and grinned. “Remember me now?”

“No… Robin-? But you’re not Rob—you’re…” Tim watched as Selina’s brain figured out what was happening. She laughed. “I can’t believe you’re alive. Batman is going to kill you. You know he went ballistic when you died. Bad day for him. Bad day for all of us.”

“I know. Selina, I need you to help me. Tell me about the new Robin.”

“What about him?”

“Is he… is he good?”

“He’s… different. Playful. Not like you or your older brother. How is ‘Wing by the way?”

“Still too young for you.”

Selina grinned. “Your father figure’s more my type. But the new one he’s raw, he smells like the street.  Not high class like you two. He has the accent too. But he’s good.”

“Street?” Tim frowned.

“Yeah.” She must have sensed his confusion because she asked, “are you okay there, ex-Robin?”

“Yeah. Fine. Look, Selina I should go-“

“Does Batman know?”

“What?”

“Batman. Does he know you’re alive?” Selina asked. She removed her mask and began removing her gloves. She was showing Tim that she was letting her guard down. Trying to get him to lower his.

Tim crossed his arms. “No. And you won’t tell him.”

“Why not?” Selina asked, fingers running down her cat’s back.

“He won’t believe you.” Tim came up with.

Selina smiled before kissing the black feline’s head. “That is true. But tell me, if you aren’t going to tell him you’re alive then what _are_ you going to do?”

Tim didn’t respond. Selina walked into her kitchen to get something. “You know,” she called from the room, “I’ve been thinking of getting myself a little protégé.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “And you’re offering me the job?”

Selina walked back in and cracked open a bottle of water. “Well I don’t see why not. You already have training, I could get you all dolled up in leather, with long diamond tipped claws… A mini-whip. Or maybe you’d like another weapon.” Selina took a sip of the water. She licked her lips. “A staff might look good on you…”

“I’m not a petty thief, Selina.”

“Nothing ‘petty’ about it.” Selina took another swig. “Imagine the reveal! You and Batsy on a rooftop, and a batarang slices your mask and goggles off. His eyes widen as he recognizes you and you say something clever before jumping off the edge and into an endless crowd. When he rushes to the border he can’t find you.”

“You have weird fantasies.”

Selina snapped her fingers. “They could call you Catlad!”

“That’s even worse than Robin.”

“Speaking of which, what’s your new moniker? Unless, of course, you’re going to go by your real name.”

“Nice try, Selina, but why would I tell you that?”

“We’re villains, kid. We share. That’s how the Gotham underworld works, we share, we network.”

Network, huh? “I’m not a villain.”

“Really?” Selina snorted. “Sorry, with the whole faking-your-death thing and the getting-recon-on-the-local-heroes thing, I figured you had switched sides.”

Switched sides. “Does killing the Joker count as switching sides?”

Selina frowned. “What are you talking about, Kid?”

“Never mind.” Tim walked to the window. “See you around Selina.”

“See you around… Not-Robin?”

“Just call me Red Hood.”

Selina raised an eyebrow. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Says _Catwoman_.”

“Touché, Hood.”

Tim slipped out onto the fire escape. “The offer still stands, kitten.” Selina called out to him.

“Somehow, I think I’ll manage as Red Hood. Thanks again Selina.” And just like that he was gone. Selina shook her head, Batman taught him well. 

* * *

 

The Iceberg Lounge was completely overdone in Tim’s mind. Tim thumbed through an accounts book at Oswald Cobblepot’s desk. The Penguin’s office went with the theme of the club, behind doors the color of ice a lavish black chair sat at an ice colored desk. A TV was hung across from the desk, the only thing on the walls. Tim put his feet on the desk and put down the accounts book, there was nothing interesting in it. No one who he could use. Tim began opening drawers and searched through them for a remote.

The click of a gun was what made Tim look up. “What are you doing in my chair?” Cobblepot asked.

“Looking for the remote.” Tim responded. “Do you have Netflix?”

“I would advise you to stand up very slowly with your hands in the air. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for information. I bet you are too. Want to know how I got in here?” Tim asked with a smirk. The Penguin narrowed his eyes. “You have really bad firewalls, and really lazy guards. I took them both out easily. I told you, now you tell me: who runs Gotham? Who has been in the big leagues for the past five years?”

The Penguin frowned slightly. He lowered his gun. “Smart.” Tim complimented.

“Get out of my chair.” Oswald snapped.

“Tell me what I want to know.”

“Get out of my _chair_.” Tim stood and Oswald waddled over to the desk. “No one.”

“What?”

“I said no one. No one has been ruling Gotham, not recently.”

“That’s a lie. Someone’s always ruling Gotham City.”

“Who _are_ you?”

“My name is Red Hood. Spread the word. Now, tell me the truth.”

Oswald snorted and sat in his chair. “The Red Hood is already taken, try Dead Hood. Because that’s what you’ll be if you try to work your way into the big leagues, kid.”

“I know Red Hood is already taken. I’m being ironic.”

Oswald frowned. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it. You’re good. In fact, if this is an audition-“

“It isn’t.”

“-I’ll hire you. But you aren’t ready.”

“Humor me.”

“I, of course, handle finances for my clients. Catwoman is Gotham’s resident crook, Poison Ivy the resident eco-terrorist, Scarecrow scares people to death, and the Joker… well you know the Joker if you’re taking his name. But for drugs and weapons, Gotham goes to the Black Mask.”

“Thank you.” Tim turned to the ice doors to leave. He then sighed. “Oswald, please put down the gun. Shooting a man in the back is a little rude.”

Tim watched Oswald’s reflection in the ice doors and the Penguin put down the gun. “You sound like the Bat.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

As Tim walked out the doors, winding through the glacier themed halls of the Lounge, he took out his list in his pocket and a pen. He added a name to the paper.

  1. Black Mask



He struck off The Penguin’s name and he folded the paper back up, stuffing it into one of his pockets. He glanced at his watch: eleven ten. He wondered if the Commish was still up. 

* * *

 

As it turned out, he wasn’t. Tim sat on Commissioner Gordon’s fire escape staring at him in what was probably a stalker-ish way. The Commissioner lay on his bed, alone. His wife had died recently, if Tim remembered correctly. He looked so stressed, even in sleep. He had deep lines on his face and his body seemed tensed; a hand clenched around the corner of the pillow next to his head. Tim felt bad for the man, head of Gotham’s police department yet nothing ever changed crime-wise here. And he was such a good man too. Tim even considered letting him sleep through the night. Going to the next name on the list and letting the poor Commissioner have a moment of rest.

But then Tim remembered what had happened to him, then he remembered what had happened to Steph. His mind invented her reaction. In his mind’s eye he saw the Joker raise his gun, he saw Stephanie’s blue eyes widen behind her mask and then the loud _bang_! Only this time the Joker’s gun wasn’t a novelty one, this time it was real. And Stephanie’s Kevlar didn’t protect her this time. Tim felt his hands shake again. His stomach churned in his belly and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Deep calming breaths, that was all he needed. When he felt the nausea pass he opened his eyes. He placed a hand down on the decaying metal rail, tightening it into a fist to stop the quaking. Deep calming breaths.

Here goes nothing.

Tim jimmied open the window and slid into the room as quietly as he could. He looked at the Commissioner, still sleeping soundly. He must have had a really tough day (that was the only type of day Gotham ever had).

“Jim.” Tim whispered, nudging the officer slightly. “Jim...”

The Commissioner jumped up from his sleeping position, gun in hand (did he keep one under his pillow? Good man). Tim raised his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He told the other man softly.

“Who the hell are you and why the hell are you in my house?”

“Don’t want to know how I got in?” Tim asked. Jim Gordon cocked the gun. Ohhhkay, no joking.

“You have five seconds before I shoot you.”

“Jim,”

“One.”

“You don’t want,”

“Two.”

“To do this.”

“Three.”

“I can’t believe you,”

“Four.”

“Don’t recognize me.”

“Five.” Then the Commish paused. “Why would I recognize you?”

Tim shrugged. _Dammit, I shouldn’t have said that!_ Tim was thankful for the mask, which hid his sudden ‘oop’ facial expression. “Because we’ve met before.”

“Did I shoot you before?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Did I count to five already?”

“Please, Jim. There’s no one in all of Gotham who could help me more than you right now.” That was a lie, but what did Jim know.

“So you break into my house?”

“Really? I’m wearing a mask and I’m in Gotham. Are you surprised?”

Jim didn’t answer.

“Jim, please. Put down the gun.”

“I feel safer like this.”

“Fine, but at least hear me out.” The Commissioner hadn’t shot Tim yet so he figured he could talk. “I need to know what happened to Batgirl.”

“Nothing has happened to Batgirl.”

“The old one. And before you tell me to look it up, I have. I need to know what happened out of the report. I need to know what happened to the Bat.”

“Why? So you can take him down?”

“No!” Jim narrowed his eyes as the desperateness in Tim’s voice. “Please, Jim. Tell me what happened.”

“She got shot.”

“There’s more than that Jim, there’s more than that and you know it. I need to know it too.”

Jim frowned. Tim could see the gears turning in his head. Tim watched as Jim’s trigger finger tensed and then he heard footsteps. Slight, but there. There was a gasp, and both the Commissioner and Tim looked at the door. A little redheaded girl stood there, eyes wide as she looked from her father to Tim.

“Daddy? What’s going on?”

“Daddy’s just talking to a friend. Why are you up? It’s past your bedtime.” Jim said, eyes snapping back to Tim.

Tim couldn’t believe how much she’d grown in the five years he was gone. She had to be… what? Seven, now? “I wanted a drink of water.”

“Honey, you just had a drink of water.” Jim argued.

“I need to pee.”

“Fine. Go to the bathroom, Babs, but then straight to sleep.”

“Fine…” Babs mumbled. Before she walked away she glanced at Tim. “Hey Mister Vigilante, you better leave. Mister Batman doesn’t like other heroes in his city. That’s why Superman is never here.”

“Vigilante is a big word, how do you know it?” Tim asked. Jim glared at Tim but did nothing.

“My Daddy taught it to me. Also you should do as he says. He’s very good at shooting people.”

“Babs, go to bed.”

“But I gotta pee.”

Tim couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. James Gordon sighed. Barbara Gordon smiled at Tim before waving and walking the rest of the way down the hall.

“She’s cute.” Tim complimented.

“If I ever see you near her I will castrate you.” _Like you’d even know I was there._

“How do you even know I have balls?”

“ _Really_?” The look on Commissioner Gordon’s face almost made Tim want to laugh again, but he held back.

“Batgirl?” Tim prompted.

“Joker did what he always did, and she got shot. End of story.”

“ _Jim_.”

“She was protecting someone… a child. The Joker was going to kill the girl and she offered herself up in the child’s place. He had Batgirl with her back facing to him, arm around her neck, gun to her back. Three shots in the same spot to the lower spine. Pierced right through the Kevlar.”

“And,” Tim took a breath trying to hide the voice crack. His vision changed automatically, now there were more gunshots, he could see their faces from the front. The Joker’s bloody grin and Steph’s blue eyes… “After?”

“She fell. Batman ran to her. The Joker got away. We never saw her again.”

“Not even you?”

“Not even me.”

“Th-thank you, Jim.”

“You-you said I knew you.” Jim mumbles when Tim backs out of his room, eyes never leaving the armed Commissioner. “Who-?”

“Sorry, Jim. Gotta leave some secrets to myself.” And Tim was gone. 

* * *

 

Vicki Vale, Gotham’s finest investigative reporter, was still awake and working. Tim snorted, if this whole killing-the-Joker-thing didn’t work out maybe he could get paid for prying into Bruce’s _other_ nightlife like Vale. Red hair pulled into a messy bun, a steaming cup of coffee on her desk, Vicki Vale was deep in her work. She stood and walked to the other side of the room, chewing on a pencil eraser. The wall she stared at had what looked like a large Murder Board, papers strung together with yarn, markers, post-its. Tim wondered who she was chasing.

Vicki’s lips moved and it took Tim a minute to realize that he was blown. _I can see you_. Tim watched as she turned towards the floor to ceiling windows and opened one. “Come on in, Batman.”

She thought he was Batman. She turned around again and continued to stare at the Murder Board. Tim swung into the room, as light on his feet as possible. “I actually expected you a little earlier. You know, this Black Mask guy might be my Lex Luth-“

“Black Mask, huh?”

Vicki Vale jumped, turning around. “You’re-you’re not Batman.”

“What gave me away? Was it the non-grumpy exterior?”

“Who-why are you here?” She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Eyes hard, chest puffed out. She wasn’t afraid. She was confident.

“Who? Call me Red Hood, and as to why? I wanted to ask you something…”

Vicki Vale raised a manicured eyebrow. “Shoot.”

 _Bang_. “The Joker, what do you know?”

“About _him_?” Vale snorted. “Anything you can ask me about, and you ask about the Clown?”

“All I need from you.”

Vale frowned. “Hmm…” She mused. “How about a trade? Tell me why and I’ll tell you what’s he’s been up to.”

“Think of it this way, whatever you tell me will determine the biggest story of the decade.”

“… Will determine _what_ about the biggest story of the decade?”

“Whether or not the story exists. Now spill.”

“I get first dibs on this story.”

“Miss Vale, if this all goes right I won’t be able to tell it to you. But Batman will.”

Vicki Vale narrowed her eyes. “This… do you think this will cause you to die Red Hood?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I intend to follow it through. Spill.”

“I don’t know where he is, if that’s what you’re asking. You’ll probably want to go to his girlfriend for that. But I have heard that something big is coming, the Joker doesn’t just break out of his comfy Arkham jail cell for nothing. He has something planned and it’s going to be as big as poisoning the water, as big as shooting Batgirl, as big as killing Robin.” Vale spoke like she was writing. The tones she spoke with were almost lyrical.

“And you have no clue what it is he’s planning?”

“Nah. Not _that_ informed.”

“Well, thank you.” Tim turned to leave.

“Red Hood?” Vale asked before he swung out the window. “Why did you chose the Joker’s old moniker?”

“You’re an investigative reporter. You figure it out.” 

* * *

 

Sunrise. Tim’s second in Gotham since his revival. He could get used to this. After a few minutes he shook himself from the awestruck gaze of the morning and began searching for a coffee shop. Villains didn’t vanish when the sun went up.

He looked at the last three names on his list:

  1. Harley Quinn
  2. Alfred Pennyworth
  3. Black Mask



Tim hummed as he shoved a pastry in his mouth. He kept forgetting to eat, that was problematic when organizing an assassination. He should set a reminder or something. Tim hesitated a second before scratching out the last two names and switching them. He could save Alfred for later.

Now… how would someone go about finding Harley Quinn?

_“Harley Quinn? Who the hell is Harley Quinn?”_

_Talia tossed the newspaper at Tim’s feet. Tim stared at the picture under the Gotham Gazette headline; a woman wielded a mallet larger than her over her shoulder. Her masked white face was split into a maniac grin. The costume she wore was split down the middle, red and black. The sections alternated as they went down and red colored diamonds decorated her black shoulder._

_“The poor girl was seduced by the Joker.” Talia told him as she stretched, loosening her muscles. “I hope you will not fall into the same trap.”_

_Tim snorted. “Please, the Joker is the_ last _Gotham villain I would sleep with.”_

_“Stand.” Talia ordered. Tim tossed the paper and stood. Talia attacked._

Tim paid and decided to start at the bottom. First he set a program to find any mention of Harley Quinn within the last hour, his phone began buzzing like crazy and it took him a moment to scan through them. None mentioned where she was, mainly just memes. Tim stuffed his phone into his pocket and went to the next step.

The first drug dealer he found knew nothing, but he did helpfully point Tim to his superior who in turn (with a little incentive) told Tim that he didn’t know anything about Harley Quinn but hey, Poison Ivy was in town recently and she had been seen around Harley, why didn’t Tim check the Botanical Gardens which had recently closed down?

Tim thanked him and started towards the center of downtown, where the Botanical Gardens were. Tim raised his eyebrows when two masked bandits ran by.

 _Really_?

Tim heard the nearest bank alarm go off and he ducked into an alley and slipped on his helmet, turning in the direction of the bandits. This would be fun. Tim ran them down, sirens beginning to blare in the distance. They didn’t have a getaway driver and they were in the middle of the city, either they were extremely stupid or they had another escape route. Only when Tim followed their dust into a dead-end alley did he realize their escape plan.

And Tim had been sewer-free for six months...

Grudgingly, Tim slipped open the manhole cover in the alley way and climbed down onto the dry path next to the pungent stream of shit water.

“Aw, c’mon! It’s day, the Bat ain’t gonna show!” Tim heard the echo of one of the bandits.

“Dude, it’s the Bat. He’ll show up at the hideout.”

“We’re in the clear, dude!” Tim hedged around the corner to see two unmasked bank robbers. The two of them were dividing up money into small bags they must have stashed here.

“Not quite.”

One of them jumped, dropped his bag and money spilled out. “Shit! I knew we was gonna get caught!”

“Dude, do you _see_ a Batsymbol on him?” The other asked him.

“Robin don’t have a Batsymbol.”

“Yeah, but Robin’s Robin.”

Tim snorted. _Couldn’t have said it better myself._ “You two sound like a married couple.”

“We are!” The upset one chirped. He waggled an ungloved finger with a ring on it.

The other nudged him. “ _Dude_!”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Tim said, grinning behind his mask. “You haven’t lost any cool points for being married.” They shared a loving look and Tim sighed. “But you’re both going to jail.” Tim took out a pair of handcuffs. “You have five seconds to surrender.” He told the happy couple.

“Yeah, right.” The over-confident one said.

Tim sighed. It didn’t have to be this way. The fight wasn’t much of a fight, but more of a they-tried-to-attack-him-with-a-bat-and-Tim-took-it-away-and-bopped-them-on-the-head-until-they-submitted-to-being-cuffed. Tim refilled the bank bags with money and grabbed the chain on the handcuffs. The married couple grumbled.

“I told ya we’d get caught.”

“I was trying to be romantic, okay? Plus, he ain’t a Bat. So you were wrong.”

“Really? Calling me wrong? That really the best idea right now?”

Ah, young love.

Tim dragged them out to the first police precinct he saw and handed them off to the first uniform he saw. Then he handed the rookie’s partner the money. “The bank robbers from about thirty minutes ago.”

Both rookies seemed a little speechless so Tim left them to their duties. After checking for a tail for a couple blocks he took off his helmet and found himself a street away from the Botanical Gardens. Cool.

Tim scaled the fence, and dropped into gated gardens. Tim slipped his mask back on now that he was out of the public’s eye. He looked around, he’d been here once with Bruce and they’d spent the entire day learning about plants. In Bruce’s defense it was technically Robin training, the more that Tim learned about plants the safer it was for him to fight Ivy. It made sense that she would set up camp here, but Tim couldn’t help but see the cliché-ness of it.

“Yooo hooo. Ivy? Anyone home?” Tim called. He walked through the rows of plants. Here were a bunch of lilies, water and non, some roses, some different type of palms…

Something wrapped around Tim’s leg. Tim tugged on the vine gently. This climber had no fruit or flowers on it, but it did have hand-size green leaves. Tim prayed it wasn’t poisonous and took out a knife from his jacket. He moved towards the vine and the vine shrunk back, as if afraid of the knife. Huh.

“Listen,” Tim told the plant. “I don’t want to hurt you. But if you don’t let go of me, I won’t have a choice.”

The plant stayed there for a second, as if thinking, before retreating. Tim thanked the plant. Ivy had created sentient flora, that was… _spectacular_! Tim wondered how she did it, _when_ she did it.

“Who are you?” He heard someone purr. And it wasn’t Selina, fancy that.

“Name’s Hood. Red Hood. Pamala, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

“Pamala…”

“Isley? You know, like your name?”

“I know my name, Hood.”

“Can I ask you some questions?” Tim repeated, turning around.

The redheaded eco-terrorist pet one of her plants. “Okay.”

“Harley Quinn. Where is she?”

“Why?”

“I need to ask her something.”

Ivy frowned. “She doesn’t need another man in her life. The last one wasn’t so kind and she still isn’t over him.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I need her, Isley. I want her to tell me where the Joker is.”

“Why? So you can weird him out with hero-worship? It’s not his style, you know.”

“I thought I was being cryptic, but apparently not well enough.” Tim rolled his eyes behind his mask. “I want to kill the Joker, Ivy. So tell me where the only person who can lead me to him in the world is.”

Ivy chewed her berry-red lips. “You want to kill the Joker?” She asked.

Tim didn’t respond. He just held her gaze.

Those rose-colored lips curled into a grin and seemed only a little too insane for Tim’s taste. “I haven’t heard from her in a while, but I can tell you where she probably is. She has an apartment from before the Joker. It’s officially abandoned but every now and then she goes back there. 19th and 92nd. Number twenty-two, apartment one.”

“Thank you, Pamala.”

“Hey Hood? Kill him for her.  Kill him for me too, but mainly, kill him for her.”

“Isley, I’m killing him for everyone.” 

* * *

 

Harley’s apartment was small. Tim hesitantly knocked on the door. The door swung open and a blonde girl in pigtails with a white tank top that professed PENNYWISE IN THE STREETS, HARLEIQUIN IN THE SHEETS poked her head out.

“Harley Quinn, I presume?”

She popped her bubble gum. “That’s _Doc_ -tah Harley Quinn to ya. Who are ya, anywho?” She popped her gum again.

“Sorry.” Right, she used to be a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum before her spiral into mass murder-hood. “Doctor. Can I ask you a question?”

The blonde hummed. “Sure. Is it medical? Want me to look at a wart? ‘Cuz y’know y’have a big red one on your face.” She pointed to Tim’s helmet and Tim crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m looking for the Joker. Do you know where he is?”

Harley shook her head. “Uh-uh. I ain’t with him anymore. We’re broken up for good this time.”

“This time?”

“Yeah. Finally got sick of it, y’know. A gal can only take so much.”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

“Nah.”

“Do you know what he’s planning?”

“Uh-uh.”

“So you’re no help at all.”

Harley popped her gum. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, thanks anyway.”

“Hey! How’d ya find me?”

“Poison Ivy. You know, you should really give her a call. She cares about you a lot.”

Harley smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah. She does. It’s nice, ain’t it? Havin’ someone care.”

 _Yeah. It probably is._  

* * *

 

Tim stared at his list. Five down, two to go. There were two ways to get to every crimelord: get their attention, or do business with them. Doing business with them was actually much harder to manufacture than getting their attention, doing business had to deal with things like money and relied heavily on how much weight your name carried. Tim’s moniker carried no weight yet, only about seven people knew that the Red Hood had been revived.

So getting the Black Mask’s attention it was. Tim heard his stomach growl and he walked into a café to eat and began planning. It took Tim a half hour to find his first Black Mask dealer. It took Tim another hour to find one of Black Mask’s lieutenants. They were all in the hospital by five pm, each with varying degrees of broken bones. Attached to the last one (a dickwad who Tim had found organizing new locations to start selling whatever he was trying to hook the local kids on) was a note addressed to the Black Mask.

_9 PM_

_Crime Alley_

When Tim arrived at eight forty five to scope out the alley he was pleasantly surprised to see armed guards strolling the block. So Black Mask wasn’t stupid, well Tim couldn’t win all of his battles. Tim waited silently on the rooftop he was on for another fifteen minutes, a black stretch limousine pulled up at the head of the street and Tim rolled his eyes behind his mask. The man himself stepped out of the car, bodyguards on all four sides. To the right of him stood a man with a clipboard, probably armed to the gills.

Black Mask quickly surveyed the area before crossing his arms over his chest. “You called?” He asked.

Tim swung down from roof the building he stood on, and sighed as every goon in sight pointed a gun at him. “ _Really_?”

No one spoke.

“I feel much safer talking without lethal weapons pointing at my head.”

“I feel much safer talking with lethal weapons pointing at your head.”

 _Fine._ “So it’s going to be that way, huh?”

“Who are you?”

“Red Hood.”

Black Mask seemed disinterested.

“It took me less than half a day to incapacitate your narcotics lieutenants.” Tim added.

“What do you want?”

“Information. What do you know about the Joker?”

“Nothing. I’m new to town.”

“Five years new? I don’t want old stuff. I want _now_. Where is he? What’s he planning?”

“I told you, I don’t know. And even if I did, why would I tell you?”

“Wow. You _are_ new to town, Mask. Didn’t you know that Gotham villains network?”

Tim was sure that Black Mask was giving him a particularly threatening glare, but he looked kind of idiotic with a Halloween mask on. Then again, this was Gotham.

“I don’t know.” Black Mask repeated, his voice stony.

“Fine. I also came here to warn you, I’ll be operating in Gotham and I _will_ be operating in your turf. If you or any of your men get in my way, I will kill them without a second thought. I won’t be here for long. But I will be here for a while.”

“Why the forewarning, Hood?”

“I’m nice like that.” Black Mask didn’t seem impressed. “That’s it.” Tim said when no one spoke. “You can go home now.”

“Or I could kill you.”

“I took out a good amount of your organization in half a day. Imagine what I could do to targets that I didn’t have to track down and a surplus of guns.”

“But you don’t have the guns.” One of the goons pointed out in a very hostile way.

Tim snorted. “Yet.”

Black Mask nodded, slowly. He held up a hand, and turned to the man to his right with the clipboard. “Let’s go, Mr. Li.”

The man beside Black Mask nodded and nudged his head sharply in the direction of the car, telling the goons to follow.

Huh. Well that was easier than expected.

Tim checked his list over again even though it was unnecessary. He knew who the next and final person on the list was.

He just wasn’t able to admit to himself that he was terrified to look in on him.

Tim found himself at the Manor in what seemed like a time ellipse, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there, but he knew he had done it. He stood outside the gate awkwardly before he left, he couldn’t do it. Not now. Not yet.

Later.

On his way back to the hotel he was staying at he crossed off the final name. 

* * *

 

Tim stared at the bed. He didn’t want to sleep (he never did), after all, he’d slept while he was dead. So he did what he always did when he wanted to ignore a bodily need (even before his death), he opened his computer and began typing.

By the time the sun had come up, Tim had done what had taken years of deductive work the first time around in just the few hours between when he got home and sunrise. Then again, this was his second time through, and he was a better detective now than ever.

He only discovered one name, but that was all he needed. He wasn’t interested in the girl anyway. The name burned in his mind, his mouth itched to say it. To spread the word, because Tim Drake, once again, figured out the identity of the Boy Wonder: Robin. Only this time, it wasn’t Damian Wayne.

Tim allowed himself the smallest of victories.

“Jason Todd.”


	4. I'm Starting to Miss Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Fam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> betaed by my ever-so-awesome usual
> 
> also i'll miss an update next sunday bc i will not be in the country with access to my computer so... yall are just gonna have to suffer

“Damian!” Damian stumbled backwards as a fifteen year old flung himself at him. Stephanie rolled up behind him, Cassandra strolling beside her. The young Jason Todd disentangled himself from the original Robin and began to… _bounce_. Damian grimaced at his younger’s enthusiasm. “Are you going to spar with me and take me out on patrol?”

“That is up to Father, Jason.” Damian smiled at the girls and kissed each on the cheek in turn. “It is good to see you both.”

“Like it ever isn’t.” Stephanie snorted.

Damian opened his mouth to reply but Cass interrupted with: “Hug.” Her arms wide open.

“Cassandra, I gave you a kiss. Is that not enough?”

“ _Hug_.”

Damian sighed and hugged his adoptive sister. Stephanie smirked, and made a whipped motion with her hand. Damian rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like his father could deny Cassandra either. When Cassandra was satisfied she released Damian. The four began to walk to the entrance to the Cave.

“So, what brings the prodigal son home?”

“I am hardly prodigal, Stephanie. I simply returned to Gotham to work on a joint business venture with Father. Nothing more. Then I will return to Bludhaven.”

“And how long will you bless us with your presence, kid?” Stephanie asked.

“Why, Stephanie? Sick of me already?”

“Always.”

“Ah.” A clean British voice rang, drawing the attention of the vigilantes. “Master Damian, you have arrived. Have you brought your animals?”

“Not to worry, Pennyworth. My pets are at home with Maya and Colin.”

“Oh! How are they?” Stephanie asked, cheerfully. Last Stephanie had heard of the two young adults Damian had been complaining about how his new penthouse apartment suddenly had more than one human tenant.

“Fine. Colin never puts away the milk and Maya spoils Pennyworth but fine.”

“Pennyworth…”

“My cat, Stephanie.”

“Ah… of course.”  Stephanie didn’t try to hide her giggles. Damian ignored her. They reached the grandfather clock and Damian opened it, chivalrously letting the girls go first. Cass helped Steph’s wheelchair down the rather steep ramp that had been added to allow Steph access to the Cave. Jason bounced after them and Damian closed the door.

“Hey Bruce! Look who came for a visit!” Stephanie called out.

Bruce Wayne sat at the Batcomputer in his suit, cowl down. He didn’t even cock his head towards the newcomers. “And right in time for patrol too.” Bruce added.

Once on less declining ground Steph took control of her wheelchair again and wheeled herself over to Bruce who sat in the large very expensive leather chair at the computer. “Jason, Cass, get dressed.” His two protégés dashed off to get their costumes. “Are you joining us, Damian?” Bruce asked.

The younger Wayne shook his head. “Nice to see you too, Father. No, I think I’ll keep Stephanie company tonight.”

“Suit yourself.” Bruce said before standing and pulling up his mask.

Damian sat in his Father’s recently relinquished chair and squawked indigently when Steph pushed the swivel chair away from the keyboard. The blonde smirked at her old partner who looked very mortified by his own squawking, but Damian recovered quickly and Steph went back to preparing for tonight’s patrol.

“So, on the agenda tonight… Two-Face has been stealing two headed coins, next up on the list of spots for him to hit is Gotham Monetary Museum, -“

“There’s a museum for that stuff?” Jason asked.

“Apparently,”

“Wow, some people need to get a life.”

“ _Anyway_ , they’re showing off famously messed up coins, some of which are double headed. After that there’s a fresh green riddle at the GCPD that Commissioner Gordon wants you to take a look at, and finally it seems that Harley Quinn may not be as retired as everyone thinks she is. She put out a ‘wanted ad’ for henchwomen in the latest Gazette’s classifieds.”

“So the usual then,” Bruce said.

“Yep. The usual.”

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to come, Dami? It’ll be fun!” Jason prodded.

“And you’re implying I’m not?” Stephanie huffed. Jason turned a pretty shade of pink and opened his mouth to respond, but Damian interrupted him.

“I’m sure, Jason.”

“Come.” Cass told Robin from behind her sewn up mask. She tugged the bird away from the two at the computers and they all hopped in the Batmobile and rocketed away.

Stephanie pulled up a window on her computer. “Comms on?” She asked into the microphone.

“ _Batman, check_.”

“ _Batgirl, check_.”

“ _Robin, check._ ”

“Happy hunting tonight, guys.” Stephanie well-wished them. She then pressed the mute button and turned to Damian. “What is it?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What is what, Stephanie?”

“You never skip out on patrol, what do you want to talk to me about?”

“Can I not just spend some quality time with my ex-partner?” Steph glared at him. Damian sighed. “I wished to know if you were well. Without Father’s imposing presence.”

“Damian, your father has never made me say anything that I didn’t believe a thousand percent. Nor has he stopped me from speaking my mind. And why the sudden interest in my well being?”

“I have always cared about your well being!” Steph raised a shaped eyebrow. “I have!” Damian insisted.

“So the years of merciless teasing and cutting my grapple cord was… flirting?”

Damian looked affronted. “It was _never_ flirting! I was testing you.”

Steph smirked. “Uh huh.”

“Stephanie, I don’t and never have had a crush on you.” It wasn’t technically a lie. He never had a _crush_ on her but he had had a squish of a sort. Not that he’d ever say that word aloud or that he’d tell her or anyone else.

“Your loss.” Steph said flippantly.

“Have you been keeping up on your training?” Damian asked.

Stephanie grinned and made a muscle. “Feel these guns! Hard as rock!” She patted her stomach proudly. “These too, like a friggin cheese grater. C’mon, feel ‘em.”

Damian grimaced. “I’d rather not.”

“C’mon! _Feel them_!”

“No.”

“Dami…”

“I am not feeling your abdominal muscles, Stephanie.”

Steph stuck her tongue out at him. “That’s just ‘cuz you’re worried they’re better than yours.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“You are incorrigible!”

“But that’s why you love me,” Steph sang.

Damian snorted. “Please, Stephanie. You know I am incapable of love.” It was meant to be a joke. Stephanie and Damian used to joke about his emotional constipation constantly, but that was a long time ago. That was when Timothy was alive. That is, when Timothy was alive and Steph and Damian were talking. Their complicated relationship had been a silent one for most of the time when Steph was dating Damian’s sudden brother, Damian didn’t blame her for the radio silence. Stephanie was Timothy’s girlfriend and so siding with him on arguments came naturally, especially when Damian was being an asshole to Tim, which he was a lot.

Steph inhaled sharply and glanced over at the wall of glass cases. The cases displayed retired costumes, Bruce had a couple in there; Damian’s Robin costume hung there, a drawn katana was positioned to look like his clothing was about to stab someone; Stephanie had two costumes in the wall as well, her Spoiler costume which was retired when she started officially working with Batman and Robin, although it was on the tail end of Damain’s Robin years, and her Batgirl costume; and finally Timothy’s costume, red and green and black, gold colored R symbol.

“The anniversary is coming up.” Steph whispered. “That’s why you asked how I was…”

Damian nodded.

“Well I’m fine, Damian.” She took a deep breath and clearly stated she didn’t want to continue with this topic of conversation.

“Stephanie-“

“I said, I’m fine. I may be a grieving girlfriend but I’m not helpless.”

“I never said you were.”

“ _’Wing? Oracle? Haven’t heard from you guys in a while. You okay_?” Jason asked, slightly out of breath. They must have been chasing someone. Steph jumped from the interruption, both she and Damian had been tuning out the conversation that the Bats had been having on patrol.

Steph turned off the mute button. “We’re good, Rob.”

“ _Cool. Hey, Oracle, what’s the Knights-Metros score?_ ”

Steph tapped on her keyboard. “9-7.”

“ _Woo_!” Jason cheered on the other line. There was a crack and it sounded like Jason punched a guy out.

“ _Oracle, Robin, is comms really the place for this conversation?_ ”

“’Course it is, B, what else would we talk about?” Steph asked lazily. Damian smirked.

“ _And I thought you were the responsible one…_ ”

“ _Liar_.” That was Cass.

Some complaining was heard from the other end of comms, the familiar hoarse voice of Two-Face. “ _We have Dent. Going to the GCPD to drop him off now._ ” Bruce said over the comms.

“Have fun.”

The rest of patrol went smoothly, or as smoothly as patrol in Gotham ever was. Harley Quinn was a dead end, despite her ‘wanted ad’ she was nowhere to be found and Poison Ivy wasn’t any help. They decided to call it a night, they could always search for her tomorrow. Bruce rolled back into the Cave with Alfred on hand to begin patching up his employer. Bruce had gotten a nasty scratch across the cheek and Cass had twisted her ankle badly.

“Jason, get into bed.”

“Aw! But Bruce-“

“You have school tomorrow. Bed.”

Jason pouted but slipped out of his uniform and into the pajamas that Alfred had laid out on the operating table that wasn’t currently being used. “You too, young Miss.” Alfred said referring to Cass. Cass limped over to him and the butler handed her a bag of ice for her foot. “Your evening tea is in your room.”

“’Night Alfie! ‘Night Bruce! ‘Night Steph! ‘Night Damian! ‘Night Cass!” Jason called before trudging up the stairs.

Cassandra waved before following him with her bag of ice.

“You should go to bed, too, Steph.”

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Steph…” Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily.

“I’m a grown woman, Bruce. You have no legal say over me.”

“You aren’t going to win an argument with her, Father.” Damian added. Steph grinned brilliantly at him.

“Steph, can you at least go make sure that Jason is in bed and not smoking.”

Steph opened her mouth to argue but saw the look on Bruce’s face. The one that he was currently directing at Damian. He wanted her gone for another reason. “Fine. But I’m only doing it for him.”

“All patched up, Master Bruce.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Alfred picked up his first aid gear and joined Stephanie on their way out of the Cave.

Bruce waited until they were both gone and the Cave entrance was closed.  “Damian.”

“Father.”

Bruce stood and walked over to the Batcomputer. He typed something in, and then stood back and crossed his arms. “What do you make of this?”

Damian swerved so that he was in front of the screen and read the headline. His eyebrows began to climb as he scanned the article.

“Someone is toying with us.”

The headline read: OLD NAME, NEW FACE; THE RED HOOD STRIKES AGAIN. The article itself had been written by Vicki Vale. In it she mentioned the recent appearances of a vigilante on the streets saving whomever he happened to come by, and that she had spoken with him before the influx of heroism had happened. He’d spoken to her about Gotham, and for his safety she wouldn’t divulge anything else about their talk. She was interested in what the next few days would bring.

However, neither of the Waynes shared her enthusiasm. “I agree. And...?”

“And they want us to know that.”

“A man named Red Hood begins saving victims. He asks the most famous native reporter about Gotham, why?”

“Red Hood, it’s too much of a coincidence, he must know about his mantle’s past bearers. Asking about Gotham… reporters know things. If you want information, a reporter is a logical place to begin looking.”

“But why not hit the street?”

“Who says he hasn’t?”

“Good point.” Batman frowned.

“Are you contemplating whether or not we should visit Miss Vale?” Damian asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bruce stared at the computer screen for a few more seconds before shaking his head. “Tomorrow. We will deal with this tomorrow.”

Damian nodded. “Will I see you in the morning, Father?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t forget, we have a meeting at noon.”

“I never do.”

“Goodnight, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.” 

* * *

 

Damian groaned. His phone blared by his ear and he decided that as soon as he went back to the Tower he would kill Jon. The human-Kryptonian had changed Damian’s ringtone again, this time it was the song _Rockin’ Robin_.

“ _All the little birdies on Jaybird Street,_

 _Love to hear the Robin go tweet, tweet, tweet_.”

Damian grappled for the phone and picked it up. “Hello Jon.” He mumbled groggily.

“Hey Dami. Nice view of your ear.” Huh? Damian blinked the sleep from his eyes and stared at the phone. Oh, they were on video chat.

“Is that Damian? Hi Damian!” Traya called from off camera. She skipped up next to Jon.

“Why have you called at such an ungodly hour?”

“Aww, we woke up Damian. Look, he’s all grumpy.” Jon teased. Traya giggled.

“What do you want?”

“Damian it’s like, ten AM there.”

“Ungodly. Hour.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why are you two awake?”

“We were going to go to the beach with the team.” Jon said.

“But then it was attacked.” Traya added.

“And the others are taking care of that, so we thought this might be a good time to call you.” Jon concluded.

The team still hated Damian, not that Damian blamed them. Damian wasn’t exactly the kindest to their now late best friend. “You called me. In the morning. To say ‘hi’.” The disbelief in Damian’s voice was evident.

“Can’t we miss our friend?” Jon pouted.

“You totally love that we do.” Traya added, sticking out her tongue.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Damian? Are you awake?” The hero heard from outside his door.

“No. Go away.” Damian responded.

Stephanie opened the door and rolled in. “Who is that?” Traya asked.

“Who are you talking to?” Steph said as she rolled up to Damian’s bed.

“No one. Go away.” Damian repeated to her. Stephanie ignored him and took his phone away.

“Hey Trays! Hey Jono! How are you?”

“Stephanie!” Traya cried happily.

“We’re great! Man, we’ve missed you Steph. You ever going to visit again?” Jon asked.

Steph shrugged. “Maybe, I’m a little grounded lately.”

“Aw that sucks.”

“Miss you too, so is this business or pleasure?” Damian rolled his eyes. Of course, Steph would walk in during a personal call from his friends and take the phone away from him.

“Actually, it’s a little of both.” Wait, what?

“You didn’t say this before.” Damian said as he shoved himself into the frame.

“Yeah…” Jon looked at Traya sheepishly.

“You wanted to bring it up.” Traya said, nudging her friend.

Jon turned back to the camera. “Ollie brought over his new protégée two days ago.” Damian knew where this was going. They’d had this conversation before. “His name is Roy, and he’s thirteen.”

“No.”

“Damian-“

“I said no.”

Steph looked at Damian confused. She had no idea what he was talking about, and Damian didn’t want to get into it with her. “Damian at least hear us out…” Jon began.

“No.”

“Dami, what are they talking about?” Steph asked as Traya mumbled to Jon: “I told you he wouldn’t go for it.”

“Nothing. Jon, we will discuss this later.” Damian said as he ended the call to Jon’s protest and Traya’s look of disappointment.

“Damian, what was that about?”

“Nothing.”

“Damian, they were talking about the new Speedy, why was mentioning that he was thirteen important?”

“No reason. Jon thinks random facts are important.”

“This is about Jason.”

Damian grimaced and began to get ready for the morning. “Are you here for a reason?”

“Yeah. Why is this about Jason? You-“ Steph’s eyes widened. “You’ve told the team, right? You _told_ them that Jason is Robin.”

“I didn’t have to.” Damian began brushing his teeth.

“ _Damian_ …”

“They may not like me, but they aren’t _stupid_. They heard that Robin was back out there and went to Jon and Colin, who caved because they’re spineless. The three brats haven’t spoken to me since, and I don’t blame them.”

“But they haven’t met.”

“Jason is not ready.”

“Jason is ready.”

“No, he _isn’t_.”

“You just want to pretend he isn’t because that means that you can still train him.” Steph snapped. “You want to keep him at home. You want to keep him safe. Well guess what Damian, you. Can’t. Save. Everyone.”

“But I can save him!”

Steph sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. “No, Damian. You can’t, because he doesn’t need to be saved. Now go take a shower and I’ll tell Alfred to make you breakfast to go.”

“Don’t bother. It’s late enough that I have to meet Father for lunch soon anyway.”

Steph sighed and wheeled out of Damian’s room. Damian stripped before taking a shower. He probably dawdled a little in there but hey, he could speed to the appointment. After a blissfully hot shower came shaving, then after that came dressing. Damian dressed slowly, taking time to mull over what Stephanie had yelled at him. He’d avoided thinking about it in the shower so that he could have a peaceful half an hour but now it was all he could think about.   _You can’t save everyone_. Damian smoothed out his button-down shirt. But he could. He could save Jason. He could keep him safe. It was his responsibility. _He doesn’t need to be saved_. He might not need to be saved but maybe Damian needed to save him…

Damian groaned, now Stephanie had gotten into his head. Damian hated when she did that. He began knotting the blue tie around his neck. Why did he ever listen to her? Shit, he messed up the knot. Damian angrily undid what he had done and tried again when someone knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

“Need help?” Cassandra asked.

“No.” Damian lied. He was too distracted to tie his accessory correctly and Cassandra realized it. She walked over to her brother and took the cloth from his hands.

“Upset.”

“I know Stephanie is upset, I won’t apologize, I do not believe I did anything wrong.”

“You.”

“Oh.” Damian hated when she did that. “Yes, I suppose I am upset.”

“Why?”

“Jason…”

“It’s always about Jason.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, he’s okay.”

“No. You and Steph.”

“Oh. Okay as always I guess.”

“Hate when you fight.” Cassandra finished with the tie. She stood back admiring her work before giving a final approving nod.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Say sorry to Steph. Not me.”

“Fine.” _But only for you._

“Meeting.” Cassandra reminded him. Damian nodded and he walked downstairs with her. On his way down he walked past Stephanie who was doing something that Damian didn’t want to care less about.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t let him go.” Damian told the blonde. Steph looked up and then looked at Cass, then back at Damian.

“Go see your father, Damian.” She told him. “And I accept your apology.”

“I only apologized to you for Cassandra!” Damian called as he walked towards the door.

“I know!” Steph responded.

“Goodbye Alfred.”

“Farewell, Master Damian. Will you be back before dinner?”

“Yes. I’m taking the black Jaguar.”

“Very well Master Damian.” 

* * *

 

“So, we’re all in agreement?” Bruce Wayne asked as he took a sip from his glass of water. Lucius Fox munched on his dessert merrily while his daughter Tamara shifted through folders. Tamara had been invited because Lucius wanted his daughter to be able phase easily into her soon-to-be-new job doing whatever Lucius did for Bruce (even Damian wasn’t sure where Lucius’s job requirements ended) only for Damian in Bludhaven.

“Yes, sir.” Tamara decided. She finished up sorting the papers and neatly placed her used utensils on her used plate, discarded napkin with them.

Bruce Wayne clapped his hands together gaily. Despite Damian living with his father for more than half of his life he was still weirded out by his father using his Bruce Wayne persona. The happiness and the light tones… it was just _wrong_. “Good! We’re all settled, then. Lucius, Tamara, would you like a ride back to the office?” Bruce Wayne waved his hand in the air, signaling the waitress that they would like their check.

“Actually, I was hoping to speak to you Mister Wayne.” Tamara said. Bruce waved his hand in a ‘go on’ motion and gave his credit card the waitress tipping her fifty.

“Oh! I meant Damian, sir. Damian… Mister Wayne. And… privately.” Bruce raised an eyebrow and Lucius sent a quizzical look to his daughter.

Damian nodded and stood. “Of course, Miss Fox. Would you like to discuss this on the way to my car? I could drive you to the office afterwards.”

“Uh… sure.” Tamara said, as she swept up her papers. Damian held the door for her and the two of them left the café.

Tamara held her work to her chest. She wore a blazer and a pair of suit pants, dark heels clicking against the pavement. She was nice, and Damian liked her a lot. She was younger than him, and the way she seemed to be optimistic about her future… it reminded him too much of Timothy. They would have been friends if they had ever met. “What did you wish to talk about?” He asked her.

“Um, so we’re going to be working together in Bludhaven.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Very closely.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Yes… we are.”

“And, well, I don’t know much about you.”

Damian frowned. Was this supposed to be a problem? “I know about you.”

Tamara sighed. “Mister Wayne, Damian, I know that you have a very close circle of friends. I know that you have a very private life. But if I am going to work for you I need to trust you.”

“Why wouldn’t you trust me, Tamara?”

“Call me Tam. I don’t trust you because you don’t even pretend to pretend.”

“Huh?”

“I know Bruce Wayne, and my father trusts him. My father has been telling me work stories of his since I was little, I’ve known him for that long as well. Damian, I know that Bruce fakes it. I know that he isn’t as happy and as flirtatious as he pretends. I’m not stupid. But the difference between you and your father is that your father pretends, you don’t even try. So, I don’t trust you. I want to trust you, Damian. I really do.”

Damian judged Tamara. For the first time, he really paid attention. She was a tall woman, but not taller than him, definitely not taller than six feet, with the heels maybe five nine. She was dressed well but not to impress him, she wasn’t about that. She held her back straight, tall, she was confident. “What do you suggest? I assume you have an idea to… bond?”

“Dinner.” Tamara proposed.

Damian nodded his head through an alley. “This way.” He and Tamara began to walk down the alley when they heard the _click_ of a gun. _You have got to be kidding me_ … Damian rolled his eyes and turned around.

“I would put down the gun if I were you.” He told the mugger.

The gun was steady. So, he wasn’t afraid. Damian had a knife in his sleeve but getting closer to disarm him would be less suspicious. Tamara looked frightened. Okay, that was unexpected. He figured she would at least have an iron stomach with the way she spoke. “Yer that rich Wayne dude, right?” The finger around the trigger tightened. “Gimme yer wallet.”

“Really? Like I’ve never been held up before…”

“ _C’mon_ , Damian, just give him your wallet.” Tamara urged, a hint of tightness in her voice.

“Yeah, man. Listen to yer girl.”

“She is not my ‘girl’, and I will not give you my-“ _Thwack!_ Damian was glad he was used to the unforeseen because someone hitting the mugger with a baton and disarming him in one motion was not anything he expected to happen. Tamara screaming in surprise. A man in a jacket, cargo pants, and a red motorcycle helmet disassembled the gun with military precision. He hit the mugger in the back of the knee with his baton and the mugger went down like a ton of bricks. The Red Hood whipped a zip tie out of his pants pocket and restrained his hands behind his back. Damian frowned, he was good. He had done this before. His proficiency dealing with the mugger… it was familiar somehow. Like he’d learned from a ninja or an assassin. Then a thought occurred to Damian… no. No.

But it fit, the reason the Red Hood made Damian and his father know he existed, the reason the Red Hood chose a name so personal to the Waynes, the reason the Red Hood was so good at fighting…

The Red Hood looked up at Tamara and Damian. He nodded to Tamara. “Miss Fox.” He glanced at the Wayne heir and stared at him unnervingly through the mask. “Damian.”

That settled it. He had been sent here by Damian’s grandfather, which meant that Damian had some family members to track down. 

* * *

 

Damian had demanded to come with on patrol. He and his Father sat on the rooftop of some warehouse while Cassandra and Jason dealt with the thugs on the ground below them. The Waynes had muted their comms so that they could speak in peace, which surprised no one. They usually took times like these to talk, that is when they were talking. “You’re sure that he’s connected to Ra’s?” Bruce asked.

Damian nodded. “I’d recognize Grandfather’s fighting style anywhere. He was trained by him, and you know that if my Grandfather trains someone, they work for him as well. You haven’t had run ins with him yet?”

“Never. Not as a civilian, nor as the Batman.”

Damian frowned. “That doesn’t bode well, Father. Do you think he’s trying to bait me?”

Bruce shook his head as he watched Jason dodge gunfire before taking away the offending weapon and bashing the thug over the head with it. “If he were trying to bait you we’d know. But his connection to the League of Assassins is concerning.”

“I concur. Do you think we should inform the others? For protection’s sake?”

“Not yet. We don’t know enough.”

“Understood.”

There was a pause. “Nightwing?”

“Yes, Father?”

“Maybe have Maya look into it. Quietly.”

“Already done.”

Batman snorted. “Yeah, you’re definitely my kid.” They both clicked their comms off of mute.

There was a sharp crack and a yowl and both heroes glanced over at Jason, who stood with a seething look on his face that Damian only recognized too well. It had been his natural facial expression for his first four years as Robin. That didn’t look good. Cassandra had defeated her foes on the ground but Jason kicked his opponent over again, screaming words that were in no way proper. Batman and Nightwing were there at once. Damian picked up the child, who fought him kicking and screaming.

“Robin! Robin! Calm down!” Damian hissed in his ear. Jason stopped flailing but that cheerful child that had greeted Damian at the door the day before was gone.

Jason wiggled from Damian’s grip. “He deserved it, ‘Wing! You didn’t hear what he was saying! About Oracle! About Batgirl! He deserved every broken bone!” The young boy shouted.

“Robin.” That was Cass’s warning tone, but Jason ignored it.

“Don’t look at me like that ‘Wing! You would have done the _same thing_ if you had been Robin!” Damian couldn’t argue with that, but Damian had done a lot of things while Robin that he would never repeat.

Batman stood from his assessment of the broken man on the ground. “He’s unconscious but he’ll be fine. What were you _thinking_?” Bruce growled.

“I was protecting Oracle’s honor! I was protecting your honor! Besides, a man like that doesn’t _deserve_ to have a working hand.”

“That isn’t for you to decide.”

“You break people’s bones all the time!”

“Not maliciously!” Batman snapped. Jason looked affronted. “You’re grounded, Robin. No going out for a week.”

“But B-!”

“I said, you’re grounded. We do not kill, we do not maim.” Damian had heard this speech before. “And we do not let our feelings get in the way of our crime-fighting, is that understood?”

Jason huffed. “Yeah. You’ve made that really clear, you coward.” Then he turned on his heel and ran.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his face wearily. “Nightwing, could you…?”

“Go after him?” Damian finished when Bruce wouldn’t.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Damian shook his head as they heard Stephanie plain as day in their ears say: “ _Jeez, B, get over the emotional constipation and relate to someone for a change_.” Which Bruce ignored.

“Fine.” Damian agreed before jogging off in the direction of Robin.

“ _D, you shouldn’t be doing this._ ”

Damian agreed with Stephanie, but he didn’t respond. Instead he followed the telltale sounds of Jason’s breathing through the comms and the yellow tail of his cape. _Wait a second…_ Damian stopped jogging and listened. _That… moron. That_ moron _!_ Jason has muted his comms! Damian took out his tracker-receiver. Unbeknownst to almost anyone he knew, besides his father and probably Alfred, Damian had placed a tracker in the Robin suits. Just in case.

Damian found him on the roof of a condemned building not far from where the boy had first met Batman. At the time Damian would have found the story amusing, but he had been preoccupied by yelling at his father for allowing another innocent child to be put in harm’s way. Damian didn’t speak, just took the box of cigarettes from Jason’s hands and tossed them over the side of the building. Jason didn’t even resist, just took an angry drag on the one that burned away in his hands.

“Of course, he sent you.” Jason mumbled.

“Stop poisoning yourself.”

“Because smoking is the only health risk of mine.” Jason snorted. “Can’t even deal with someone angry at him, no wonder everyone stays away from Gotham.”

“That has less to do with his incompatibility with others and more to do with his overbearing nature.”

“Overbearing? Really? Wonder when I start to deserve ‘overbearing’.”

Damian frowned. “You know he cares, right?”

“Uh huh. Caring, that’s it.” Jason sighed. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything. You’re all great and stuff,”

“No.” Damian said. “I know he is emotionally distant, but-”

“And don’t you say that this is about Tim.” Damian snapped his mouth closed immediately. “Look I get it. You’re all still sore about it, I understand that, I do. But with him it’s like no one will ever take Tim’s place and god forbid anyone tries to take up his mantle. To honor him.”

“That’s why you’re doing this? To honor Timothy?”

“It’s his anniversary around now. That’s why B’s extra cranky.” Jason mumbled, extinguishing his cigarette beneath his boot.

“Three days.”

Jason scowled. “Sometimes I wish he never died.”

“You aren’t the only one.”

“Sometimes I wish he never existed.”

He wasn’t the only one who had ever wished that either. Damian didn’t speak.

“Aren’t you supposed to calm me down and tell me everything will be alright? That Batman is right for grounding me, but I am right for defending the family’s honor?” The words were spiteful.

“No. I don’t do that.”

“Of course you don’t. No one in this fucking family does. ‘Cept Steph.”

“Is that what you’re angry about? That we don’t hold your hand?” Damian snapped.

“No! I’m angry because-…” Jason growled before trying again. “I’m angry because…”

“Can’t express your emotions?” Damian asked with a raised eyebrow. “Welcome to the family.”

Jason didn’t look at Damian.

“ _Uhh, guys? Sorry to interrupt but looks like there’s a crime in process, Red Hood is there._ ” Steph called from the other ends of the comms.

“ _Where?_ ” Batman asked through the comms.

“ _March and Main_.”

“ _I’ll be there in fifteen._ ”

“Forget it, Robin and I’ll do it. We’re closer.” Damian said. Jason nodded in agreement and the two of them took off.

“ _Alright_.” Bruce said softly through the comms. Then, as an afterthought: “ _Be careful_.” 

* * *

 

They arrived at the scene in the middle of a battle. The Red Hood was ducking under Harley Quinn’s mallet, her gang of cronies unconscious and restrained. Jason began to lunge into the fight but Damian stopped him. “Let’s see what the Red Hood’s got.”

“B told you about him, huh?” Jason asked, arms crossed as he watched Harley hit the Hood square on the mask, the man flying backward. Damian nodded.

Hood stood up and tensed, preparing to attack. “YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS HARLEY!” He shouted. That was… unexpected. Harley laughed and lunged. The Red Hood dodged, fists clenched. “Harley! Please! He’s using you!”

“My Puddin’ loves me more than anyone ever could!”

“You said you weren’t going to go back to him! You said-“

“And they call _me_ crazy!” Harley laughed, heaving her mallet over her shoulder. “I’d never say that about my Puddin’!”

“Harley! Please! Think about Ivy!”

“Red’s fine with it! If she had a problem she’d tell me!” The psychotic doctor roared, mallet once again aimed at the Red Hood’s head. Red Hood ducked and slammed Harley against a building, hand around her throat. She struggled to raise her mallet and hit him again but he batted the weapon away simply.

“If you’re so close then tell me where he is! Tell me what he’s planning!” Huh. Why would Hood care what Joker was planning?

“I ain’t never gonna betray my Puddin’ for a shlump like _you_!”

“ _Harley_ …”

Jason leapt forward, dodging Damian’s attempts to keep him from the fight. “Let her go!” He shouted, his body seemed to shake with righteous fury. The Red Hood turned, looking first at Robin then at Nightwing. He dropped Harley and the woman scrambled for her weapon.

Red Hood stared at Damian for an uncomfortable amount of time, eyes behind the red mask locked. Harley grabbed hold of her weapon and let out a deathly war cry, but the Red Hood dropped a smoke bomb and Harley went right through it, confused by the fact that she hadn’t hit her target. By the time the smoke dissipated, the Red Hood was gone.

“Why did you do that?” Damian asked Jason.

Robin scowled. “He was going to kill her!”

“You don’t know that! We could have gotten more information about him!”

“You don’t know _that_!”

Damian groaned. “~tt~, Fine. Go arrest Harley.”

Jason continued to scowl at Nightwing but did what he was told. Once in custody Harley was a lot less talkative than she had been with the Red Hood, so there was no information to be gotten there. Not even by Batman. The four vigilantes left the GCPD and Jason and Cassandra were sent home for bed.

Bruce and Damian turned off their comms as they did one last sweep of Gotham. The older Wayne’s silence was more telling about his thoughts than him talking would have been. “You’re worried about Robin.” Damian stated.

Bruce didn’t look at his son. “He’s out of control.”

“No, he isn’t. Not yet.”

“Nightwing…”

“He _isn’t_. Isn’t that what people used to say about me? That I was out of control?”

“They were right.”

“But I still turned out fine. Father, do _not_ take Robin away from him. _Don’t_. I do not think he could handle it.”

“Then what do you suggest? Because I’m at the end of my rope.”

Damian fiddled with his hands. “He’s lonely, Father.”

“I know.”

Damian couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I could always…”

“You could always…?”

“I hear there’s a new Speedy on the Superhero-ing block.”

Batman looked at him for a second before replying. “Oh.”

“They aren’t that far apart age-wise.” There was a silence. “Flamebird suggested it.”

“Have you taken him to the Tower yet?”

“No.”

Another pause. “Still not talking?”

“I don’t know how they’ll react.”

Batman nodded. “Not yet. We need to talk this over.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

“Brief me on Hood.”

“Trained. He’s looking for the Joker, trying to figure out what he’s planning.”

“Let me know how that goes.” Bruce said cynically.

“He was trying to talk Quinzel down. He mentioned Isley.”

“By name or-“

“As Ivy.”

Bruce nodded, a frown appearing. “What?” Damian asked. “What is it?”

“How long are you staying in Gotham?”

“Depends. Any Wayne Enterprises emergencies in the near future?”

“I’m sure Alfred can arrange something.” 

* * *

 

“Father.” Ra’s looked up to his daughter walking in. She held a newspaper between her hands and she handed it to him. Ra’s Al Ghul read the _Gazette_ ’s latest headline.

“I see. Talia, gather the team. It’s time we brought the Little Detective home.”


	5. Riddle Me This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one you've all been waiting for ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, late update. No computer for a week, so...

It had been a mistake, saving Tamara Fox. Nothing against Tam, but Tim had shown himself. They were onto him. He knew they would be, eventually. After the _Gazette_ headline Tim knew that Bruce would look into him, but Damian… he hadn’t counted on Damian. Bruce, he could fake out until he had finished his goal, Damian he couldn’t.

He had to assume that they knew everything.

He had to assume they’d already gone to Ra’s, interrogated Harley, Ivy, Vale, and anyone else he spoke to. He had to assume that they knew he was after the Joker and that he was living in the downtown area—that meant he had to move. He had to assume that they would be at least one step ahead of him, which meant he had to be more careful.

The larger mistake had been being seen by Robin—Jason. Jason Todd. Jason Todd, street kid extraordinaire who had only been known for lifting hubcaps. Jason Todd, the most opposite of a blue blood possible. Jason Todd. And somehow, Damian had avoided killing him.

Damian had seen Tim not once but twice. Tim was slipping, he was slipping bad.

Chances were Damian wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Tim took a breath and stumbled into his hotel room. He’d have to leave it soon, he’d have to move, re-vet a new place. He’d have to reinvent his entire plan, he’d need to be careful and he’d need more information. He’d need to begin killing to send a message to anyone who knew the Joker that he was serious, that he wouldn’t stop. And all of this would in turn would make Bruce want to find and arrest him more.

He was in a lose-lose situation. He needed to think this over again.

Tim missed being dead.

Slowly he stood and packed. His singular backpack was stuffed to the brim and he didn’t have room for his laptop, if he wore his Red Hood outfit he would be able to carry it but he didn’t necessarily want to. The Red Hood carried too much attention right now for casual walking. Tim grabbed his stained hotel provided pillowcase and stuffed the remainder of his things in there. It was time to move.

He kept to backstreets and alleys, dodging cameras until he was a good amount of space away from his previous hotel. Then he looked for a new squat. But he was out of the cheap part of town (not that there was only one, but they were far away from where he was). Tim checked his money, enough for three nights in a decent hotel but he’d need to rob a bank or magically find the Joker to make it worth it. Maybe he could bunk in a shelter for a night? Nah, he couldn’t risk it with his abundance of contraband, plus the Red Hood helmet. Sewers? Nah, the smell could draw attention or tip the Bats off. Looked like decent-esque hotel it was.

The new hotel room didn’t have a TV, but it did have a shower, which was nice. Tim used that commodity then stole some complimentary supplies (you know, shampoo bottles, soap, toilet paper) and told the front desk that he needed some, which they gave without question. Then Tim fell into bed, clothes and all, and slept. Or, at least, dreamt.

_Green, burning liquid. It filled his nostrils and felt like suns. The fire that burned crawled into every orifice, his mouth, the corners of his eyes, his ass. He saw his life flash before his eyes, Kon smiling; Cassie tackling him in a hug; his father; Steph and his first kiss; the moment he figured out that Damian was Robin; his mom dying; the first time he walked into Titans Tower. Tim screamed. He felt his bruises and broken bones heal, painfully. Each sliver of bone, each ruptured blood vessel, slowly reforming, slowly stitching together. It dragged through him, every movement felt and full of pain. His heart finally began to beat. Faster. Faster. Faster. Blood rushed through him, adrenaline, serotonin, dopamine. He could feel his body inflate, no not inflate, that’s called a breath. He was breathing. It felt like so long ago and so little ago at the same time. He was breathing. He was-_

_“You okay there, Boy Blunder? You’ve got a little something,” the crowbar hit his ribs, crushing them into his chest, “on,” the crowbar rose again and this time it hit his eyebrow, cutting into it, “your,” Tim tried to roll over but the Joker kicked him in the stomach, making him curl into the fetal position, “face!” And then the Joker laughed, that maniacal laugh that made Tim want to hurl. And he did a little, hurl, bile that crawled out of his mouth, dripping from his slightly open mouth._

_“Aw, c’mon Babybird! Smile,” The Joker said, a grin on his face, “you’re going to meet your maker! Ahahahaha!”_

Tim gasped awake, air filling his lungs. He clutched at his sheets, eyes squeezed shut. He ignored the phantom pains, he ignored the memories that flashed before his eyes, running around in his head. _Think of something else-anything else!_ Tim urged himself, trying to scrounge up anything he could to distract his mind.

After an amount of time he couldn’t count and after an amount of memories he’d rather not remember he pried his eyes open. Light, vague light that glowed from behind a covered window. That meant it was probably morning. A new day, a new chance to run around the city looking for the Joker. Sometimes he missed having more than one thing to obsess over.

* * *

 

“ _Good afternoon, Damian_.”

“Afternoon, Maya. Did you find anything?”

“ _Not much, you_ are _asking about the Assassins. That being said…_ ”

“You did find something.”

“ _There’s no bounty on this guy._ ”

“So?”

“ _A connection with the League, no bounty, and a group of assassins after him_.”

“You… didn’t tell me that last bit.”

“ _Friends in low places_.”

“Besides me? I’m offended, Maya.”

Damian almost heard her smile from the other end of the phone. “ _Need me to get the team together? If this involves your Grandfather_ …”

“No. This is something I need to deal with on my own.”

“ _Because that always works out well._ ”

“If I wanted sarcasm I’d-“

“ _Take it like a Superhero._ ”

Damian narrowed his eyes. Maya laughed from the other side. “ _You’re cute when you’re frustrated._ ”

“I am never cute.”

“ _My bad, of course_.” There was a pause. “ _Fine. Three days and then I call them in_.”

“Three days.”  Damian agreed. He hung up. Damian checked the clock, one sixteen in the afternoon. He had exactly seventy-two hours before his friends would descend upon him and his ‘Red Hood’ problem like a flock of vultures to the first carrion seen in months. Maybe a little less hostile though… You never knew.

Jason was at school but it was Friday which meant that he would be free for the weekend, then again, he _was_ grounded. Stephanie was at physical therapy and would be for another couple hours. Alfred was doing errands until he would need to pick up Stephanie, Cassandra was with him, she liked spending time with the butler. Bruce was supposed to be at work, but he probably wasn’t. All of that left the Cave empty and gave Damian some privacy so he went downstairs to brainstorm.

Both Damian and his father wanted to keep the Red Hood problem contained to Gotham and in the family, but once his three days were up that small amount of privacy would be gone. As much as Damian didn’t want to admit it, he and Bruce wouldn’t be able to cover the ground they would want to without help. He would have to brief Stephanie.

But as for now, he could do some things. Damian typed his passcode into the computer and began to search for League sightings. If there was no bounty but the League was sending members, that meant either assassination or extraction.  It also meant that it was personal for the League, they didn’t want anyone beating them to the punch.

Which meant that was exactly what Damian had to do. He had to beat them to the punch.

Damian began running facial recognition software on every camera in town, in real time. He set an alert for when the computer found its target, and synced his suit to the computer so it would notify him. He suited up, and left a note for Alfred.

 _Gone hunting. Might be back for dinner. Took the plane_. - _D. Wayne_

Damian figured that following up with Vicki Vale about her claim of meeting the Red Hood might be a good place to start. She was currently at her office. She wouldn’t mind if he popped in to see her. He parked the plane outside her window and climbed onto the roof of the flying vehicle. He watched as the people in the desks beside her stood and began to speak, gesticulating wildly behind the glass. He tapped on the window patiently. Vicki Vale raised her head slowly, and turned around in her chair. She smirked on the other side of the glass and Damian lowered himself so that he was sitting on the roof of his vehicle, legs curled up beneath him, the picture of nonchalance. He knew it annoyed her. The redhead crossed her arms and her legs, eyebrow raised. Damian continued to wait until someone hesitantly walked up to her, eyes never leaving Nightwing, and murmured something that Damian lip-read as ‘aren’t you going to let him in?’ Damian continued to stare at the reporter. Vicki mused the point before relenting and standing. She opened the window and waved a hand, inviting him in.

“Took you guys long enough, I figured you’d show up five minutes after the paper went out. Going to stay out there and pout?” She asked.

“Miss Vale.” Damian acknowledged, not answering her question. “May we talk privately?”

Vicki Vale rolled her eyes. “Depends, can I get an exclusive?”

“No.”

“Can I get a quote at least?”

“If I say no, will you quote me anyway?”

“Yes.”

Damian stood and held out a hand. Vale looked confused, but took it and Damian pulled her onto the roof of the plane. He sat again once he had made room on the roof for her to do the same. “We-we’re not going to land? Or go inside?”

“No.” Damian cracked a smirk. “Why? Scared?”

Vale firmed her jawline and sat with him. “No. Of course not.” She warily lowered herself, matching his cross-legged pose. “So, why are you here Nightwing? Isn’t Bludhaven your town?”

“Family business.” He answered. He saw her hand move to the pocket in her suit pants, she was recording this. “What did the Red Hood say to you?”

“Is _that_ the family business?”

“What did the Red Hood say to you?”

“Nothing.”

“He’s looking for the Joker. Why?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.” Vale puffed out her chest.  She wasn’t… proud, was she?

Damian narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t tell him where the Joker was, did you?”

“I don’t know where the Joker is.” Something in her eyes, they seemed to gleam.

Why would Vicki Vale be proud if she didn’t know any of the answers to Damian’s questions? The answer was simple, she was lying. Not about the Joker… no, something else. Something she wasn’t telling him. What wouldn’t she tell him? What did a reporter pride over helping a vigilante?

A story.

Vale would never risk that. And if Red Hood had promised her one… “You won’t help me.” Damian stated.

Vale blanched. “W-what? No! Why wouldn’t I help you?”

“You know why. If you won’t help me, then I’m leaving.”

“Nightwing-!”

“Get off my plane.”

Vale frowned, but stood. “You’re making a mistake. Whatever you guys are going to do… it’s a mistake.”

“Is that your official opinion?” Damian asked, not caring what the answer was. He helped Vale back across to her office building.

“Nightwing, let him be. He isn’t hurting anyone.” She begged.

 _Yet_. Damian didn’t respond. An assassin who left the League and ended up in Gotham, wow that sounded familiar. But this guy wasn’t Damian, and this guy didn’t have the Batman for a father, that meant that he would slip, and it would terrify Gotham.  He dropped into the plane, and sped off.

The Red Hood had offered her a story. That meant that he wanted what he was going to do involving the Joker to be known, and he wasn’t concerned about privacy. Why would Ra’s want the world to know about the Red Hood? What was he planning? And yet… None of this fit. The team after the Red Hood, the absence of a bounty, that all pointed to anonymity. If Ra’s didn’t want the underworld to know, why would he care about Red Hood making a news story? Unless… no. But it was the only way it made sense. The Red Hood was a defector, and the assassins were going to kill him. Damian needed to find the Red Hood. _Now_.

* * *

 

The bar was dingy at best, a health hazard at worst. Tim ran his fingers over the glass of water in front of him, drawing squiggles in the condensation. He’d been all over town, and since Harley had been locked up, he had no leads on the Joker. He’d checked all the usual haunts, arcades; playgrounds; amusement parks; comedy clubs. Nothing out of the ordinary on any of them. But they weren’t all that were dead ends.

The bar he was currently in was one of the infamous Villain Bars. Henchmen, groupies, anyone looking for a villain could usually find one in one of these places. Mad Hatter and Firefly chatted in a corner booth. Black Mask’s men had commandeered a handful of tables for a poker tournament. Tweedledee and Tweedledum were drunkenly conspiring on bar stools.

“Hey! Bartender! Turn it up!” Someone shouted.

Tim glanced up. The henchman in question had been talking about the TV, on which was the news. The anchor was talking about a recent breakout. “- _since the Batman brought her in yesterday. Five guards have been reported dead so far, four have been injured, including a psychiatrist. The perpetrator of the breakout has not yet been deter-_ “

Harley Quinn had been broken out of prison. Interesting, usually the Joker let her stew for a little while. He had needed her out. Why…?

“-so we’ll need a giant wooden horse!”

“Nah, won’t work. The carpenter we get all of our woodwork from is busy on a big project.” Firefly mumbled.

“Damn! Doing what? I wanted to plan this for next week!”

Firefly shrugged and took a swig of whatever brown liquid he was drinking. “Dunno, something really secret, though.  Wouldn’t tell me how much they was being paid either so I couldn’t double it to get what I wanted.”

Tim stood and moved closer to them. “What’s this guy’s name?”

They looked at Tim accusingly. Good thing he didn’t have his mask on or they’d never speak to him, not after he had began his vigilante activities. “Who the hell are you?”

“This guy, what’s his name?”

“Why do you care?” Because it’s a secret in Gotham. Tim raised an eyebrow.

“Why do _you_?” Mad Hatter and Firefly exchanged glances. “We’re Gotham villains, aren’t we? We network.”

“ _Her_ name. Jenna Duffy.” Mad Hatter corrected. “But she’ll give you nothin’. She don’t care ‘bout bribin’.”

“I’ll see about that. Thanks.”

Maybe not a dead end after all. 

* * *

 

Jenna Duffy worked in an abandoned lumber warehouse. The original workshop had processed wood for wood chips in playgrounds. Now Jenna used it for whatever she needed. And right now she was carving a… very large stick? Tim made himself comfortable in the rafters, mask over his face. She sanded the oblong stick, brown corkwood. Lightweight. The stick was maybe five feet long, and rather thin. Hmm… What was she making?

Wait… were those ridges?

Duffy was carving ridges into the top, sanding them down, measuring then carving again. She was fitting it for something, but what?

“Is it done yet?” Someone called from just out of sight. The voice was high-pitched but male.

“Soon. I finish the sanding then the glaze, and then we just have to put the two together.” Nygma? Why was the Riddler involved?

“Good! The game is afoot!” There was a giggle from him. There was a door that clanged shut.

“I know you’re up there, whoever you are. C’mon down.” Jenna Duffy called. Damn, did everyone know when Batsy was spying on them and just not tell him? Red Hood dropped down.

“How did you…?”

“I usually say that every four minutes.” Duffy said surprised. “Didn’t expect anyone to actually be there. Who are you?”

“The Red Hood, you’re making that for the Riddler? Why?”

“Not making this for the Riddler, he’s just today’s check in.”

“Why are you being so helpful?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t pay to keep my mouth shut. Anyway you’re one of those Bats right?”

“No.”

“But you still fight the underworld and stuff. I helped Bats once.”

“That’s nice.”

“Mmhm, I’m guessing you’re looking for the Joker, and if Nygma ain’t my employer then you’re wondering who is.”

“You didn’t take the Firefly’s job and he offered to pay you double.”

“I’m not giving up this job, but that doesn’t mean I have carpenter/commissioner confidentiality.”

“So, are you going to tell me?”

“Depends, got the money?”

“What’s your price?”

“Bad thing to ask. Don’t you haggle?”

Tim looked around, seeing what she valued. She had plenty of people to hire her, plenty of tools, what would she value? What did she need? “How about dinner of your choice?” Who didn’t like free food?

She raised an eyebrow. “Hitting on me? Really?”

“Not hitting on you. I’m offering to buy you dinner.”

She stopped working to consider. “Take out. Chinese. Place four blocks down from here.”

“Anything particular?”

“How ‘bout one of everything?”

“You’re the boss.”

“Damn right.” She said with a smile and went back to working. Dinner was ready in a couple hours and Tim officially needed to hack an ATM on the way home. He dropped the four bags of take out on the worktable next to her giant stick.

“Food. Now information.”

“Harley Quinn.” She mumbled, something stuck in her mouth.

“You’re kidding, she’s only been out of jail for like, four hours.” She took whatever it was out and tweaked one last thing with it.

“Before she was in jail. Then I got check-ups, then she got out, then you caught up to speed.” She pulled off her gloves and washed her hands before hopping onto a table and taking out a box of something. She pulled out some chopsticks and began eating.

“What’re you building for her?”

“A new mallet, only it has to look like a gavel.”

“A… gavel?”

“Mhm. She even made me use corkwood because it’s made out of similar materials as gavels, like in courts. The thing is built to balance her weight and her height.” She glanced up from her food. “Why?”

“No reason.” Why would Harley Quinn want a gavel? “Thanks.”

“Don’t want to stay and help me finish all of this?”

“I’ve… got plans.”

“Ah.” Jenna Duffy didn’t look very disappointed though.

“Don’t mention this to anyone, please.”

“And why would I do that?” She asked. Tim brushed a hand over one of his hidden guns. She revealed information easily, she’d helped Bruce before. It wouldn’t be hard to get her to tell him about this, and she thought Tim was a good guy she’s probably think she was helping by informing Batman. Tim would have to kill her. He’d have to-

“I bought you dinner.”

She continued to eat. Tim’s hand tightened on his weapon. “See you around Red Hood.” She said softly.

Tim let his gun go. He couldn’t do it. He had to trust her, or he had to find the clown before Batman found him.  “Doubt it.” Red Hood walked away. 

* * *

 

“I see you have returned, Master Damian.” Alfred said as he prepared the table for dinner. “Will you be joining Master Todd, and Miss Cain for dinner?”

“Father and Stephanie aren’t home yet?”

“They are, they are both in the cave, but since Master Jason is grounded Miss Cassandra has volunteered to stay home tonight to keep him company.”

“Stephanie isn’t enough?”

“The rules of being grounded have not changed since you were grounded, Master Damian. As you well know Jason is not allowed in the Cave.”

“I do not believe I will be here for dinner. Thank you, Pennyworth.” Damian walked down to the cave.

The Cave was filled with the sounds of training. Stephanie beat up dummies under Bruce’s watchful eye. She stopped after demolishing one and throwing it into the pile of to-be-repaired dummies which Alfred would probably have to fix, unless Bruce wanted to punish Jason even more.

“Damian, have fun hunting?” Stephanie asked through heavy breaths. She took a swig of water from a bottle and wiped sweat from her brow.

“Not particularly. Couldn’t find him anywhere.”

“Who were you searching for? You never said in your note.”

“I actually wanted to talk to the two of you about that.” Damian crossed his arms over his chest and Steph and his father exchanged a look. “Maya got back to me. Grandfather is after the Red Hood, and he wants to kill him for deserting.”

Steph’s blue eyes widened. “Maya got all of that?”

“Not exactly.” Damian explained his thought process and his plan to the two of them, his father’s stoic face stayed the same but Stephanie, as always, was as expressive as she wished to be.

“Are you _insane_? We’re not going to kidnap an ex-assassin and hold him in the Cave until your gramps’s cronies go somewhere else!”

“Why not? If they _do_ find him here, which they _will_ , there will be war in Gotham. You don’t want that, do you?”

“So we endanger ourselves then? We endanger Jason and Cass?”

“We endanger them every day.”

“Not by sticking them with an assassin!” Damian scowled and Steph quickly backpedaled. “I’m- I mean, not one that’s dangerous. Not that you’re not-look, they _know_ you, _you’re_ different.”

“The Red Hood is _better_ than I was.” Damian said flatly. “He’s a hero here.”

“As of now.” Bruce added unhelpfully.

“ _I_ wasn’t even close. He deserves our help. How is he any different than I was?”

Stephanie and Bruce exchanged looks. “He’s not.” Bruce agreed. He glanced from Damian to Stephanie. “Suit up. Stephanie, call up to Alfred: Robin and Batgirl will join us.” Steph sent the message to the butler on her phone and a few seconds later Jason and Cass were running down the Cave stairs.

“Really, Old Man? Gave up on grounding me so quickly?” Jason called.

“We have a case, we need manpower. After that you’re still grounded and we’re still talking.” Bruce snapped. Jason rolled his eyes and pulled his Robin tunic over his head. Cass grinned and pulled her mask over her face. 

* * *

 

He was so stupid. So very, very stupid. It all made sense now, the gavel, the secrecy. He was doing something big, something bigger than shooting Batgirl, something bigger than killing the Robin. What was bigger than that? Tim ran through the city to where the Joker _had_ to be. The only place that made sense—Tim had ignored the location originally because it had been a four line blurb in a newspaper (the same _Gazette_ that had announced the Red Hood’s appearance, funnily enough) but with the gavel… it made sense. A courthouse had recently been closed down, it was meant to have renovations but then the city had lost funding and it had never been completed, it stood in the center of Gotham abandoned.

There was only one thing larger than killing Robin and shooting Batgirl, and it wasn’t a what. It was a _who_.

Tim knew what the Joker was going to do, and he couldn’t let that happen. Gotham may not have needed him, but Gotham _did_ need the Batman.

The explosion stopped him in his tracks. It had been maybe four blocks away from the courthouse. He could make it, he could still go to the courthouse and then he could go to the explosion site. He still could-

“Yo! Reddy!” Tim swiveled his head. Harley Quinn, he was starting to dislike her. She hefted her mallet (not the one that was the prop for the Joker’s latest scheme) over her shoulder. “You figured it out, huh? You even figured it out before Batsy! You’re impressive.” She sighed. “Too bad I’m about to kill you. You won’t even get to see Puddin’s latest plan! Which is sad, ‘cuz it’s a good one. But you already know that.”

Another explosion.

“How’s about I make you a deal, you leave us alone and we kill ya after we kill the big bad Bat?”

Tim reached for his gun. Harley jumped at him, weapon swinging. Tim dodged and pulled his gun. He would shoot. He would do it. He would-there were screams from where there had been the explosion. He hesitated. “You gonna go save people, hero?” Harley asked. Tim grit his teeth but left, running to the explosion site.

He arrived to people screaming, police alarms blaring, a villain cackling, the usual. After a quick glance around he saw that there was no Dynamic Duo (or trio, technically with that Cass girl around, and Damian, too, so he guessed that made it the Dynamic Quartet) around. That left him free to bring down this villain on his own. Good. He could use the exercise.

It took Tim a minute to separate the hench-flunkies from the screaming bystanders. The Red Hood jumped into the fray, batons out. He struck one of the ones with a question mark on his shirt in the stomach before hitting him on the back of the head. So it was the Riddler, great.

“Riddle me this, Red Hood!” Edward Nygma crowed from his spot standing on the top of a car in the middle of the chaos. Tim moved on the other cronies, there was another explosion and Tim ducked from the blaze behind a blaring car. Damn these shock-activated car alarms. This was all a distraction, Nygma was in on the Joker’s plan, so this _had_ to be a distraction. But why? Just so that Tim would give them a handful more hours? Tim glanced up and looked around, shrapnel, screaming, fire… blood. That was blood. Tim ran to the site, ignoring the way that his mask heated from the flames. Someone was screaming for help, where were they? Where were they? More screaming.

“I’m coming!” Tim shouted, ducking under an empty car frame. “I’m coming!”

“ _Please_!” The person shouted. “ _It’s my child_!” Tim was glad for the lenses in the mask, they blocked dust from his eyes. The child was half burnt, his face black and blistered, his clothes were embedded in his skin, pus leaked from his stomach and Tim was sure those were intestines.

“Have you called nine-one-one?” Tim asked at the woman. She nodded, face streaked with tears.

“Th-they’re backed u-up.” She sobbed.

Tim took a pulse from the non-burnt side. Dead. Too much damage, too much time, he was too late. “I’ll make the man who did this pay.” Tim promised.

“W-what? What do you mean? Do you mean he’s-“

“I do. But I’ll avenge him.”

“I don’t want him avenged!” The woman cried, kneeling by her son. “I want him alive!” She held her child’s body to her chest, sobbing profusely.

“Avenged will have to do.”

Tim ran back into the fray. The Riddler continued to laugh uncontrollably. Tim saw a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye and ducked, a Batarang hissed over his head, hitting an oncoming question-mark-flunkie and knocking him down. Tim gave him a kick to the face and grabbed the weapon flinging it at another one of the numerous henchmen. Nightwing took out one of the other ones and nodded to Tim briefly before flinging another batarang. Great, the Dynamic Name-A-Number were here.

“Nice to finally meet you.” So he didn’t know that Tim knew. Good to know. Tim didn’t respond. There was a ticking sound and a black box with blinking red lights landed five feet beside them. They jumped behind the remnants of a mailbox and covered their ears as the bomb went off. “We need to talk.”

“Busy.” Tim snapped at Nightwing. Tim’s hand felt something matted but soft. He glanced at what he’d touched; a chill ran down his back. A black fingerless glove with a stylized R on the front, half of the golden emblem was discolored with wet blood. Fresh blood. He’d warned her. _He’d warned her._ Movement next to him shook him from his momentary grief. Damian Wayne’s alter ego peeked out from behind the mailbox and took a tear gas pellet from his belt and threw it at the Riddler, who coughed his way off of the vehicle he was standing on.

“Obviously not now.”

“Don’t want to talk to you.”

“Look, I understand. The League is after you but-“ Wait, what? Since when was the League after him? Tim dodged to the side of a spray of bullets (one of the henchies had somehow gotten his hands on a gun) and he whacked the guy with his baton while the man tried to unjam his weapon. Tim disarmed the gun and sidestepped another who was coming at him with a steering wheel. “-we can join forces, fight the League of Assassins together.” Yeah, right.

“Hey Batman!” The Riddler shouted. “Riddle me this! What type of bird dies two out of three times?” Bruce and his Batgirl were helping injured people get to safety. Jason Todd fought off some of the Riddler’s helpers (a little too gleefully), and Nightwing was too far away. Tim was the only one who saw the bomb. He saw the Riddler throw it and he saw Jason gloss over it while he fought. Jason was too close, and he was preoccupied. He hadn’t seen it.

No. Not again. Not on Tim’s watch. Robin wouldn’t die.

He was risking everything, everything he knew, everything he worked for for days, it would all end. But Tim would be saving his life.  Tim would be saving Robin’s life.

Tim jumped, crying out Jason’s name to get his attention. The two of them tumbled to the ground rolling as far as they could from the momentum. Tim curled around the younger boy, he could hear his shallow breathing, his whispering words of confusion. Tim squeezed his eyes shut. The Riddler cried his punchline: “A Robin!” He laughed, that stupid Arkham brand laugh that every villain in Gotham seemed to have. Then the bomb went off.


	6. Under The Red Hood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by the usual :)
> 
> Also, Happy Passover for everyone who celebrates! (I'm posting this while procrastinating pesach cleaning)

_Batman—Bruce Wayne! That was so cool! —looked through the pictures one by one. He looked at the one on the top, he studied it, then he moved on to the next. He performed the rhythmic motion silently, languidly, carefully. Nightwing—Damian Wayne! —scowled, crossed arms over his chest. Tim had never been so close to him in his new suit before, his Robin suit was really cool and semi-colorful, but his Nightwing suit was_ awesome _! It was all sleek and black with a dark green_ League green _V that went from his fingers up to his shoulders then down into a tip between his pectorals. A belt wrapped around his hips, a scabbard hung from either side. He sat off to the side making that “~tt~” noise that he always made when he was irked._

_“These are good.” Batman finally decided. He handed the pictures back to Tim who stared wide-eyed up at the Dark Knight. Batman had just told him that his photos were good!_

_“T-thank you, Bruce!”_

_“Don’t call me that.”_

_“Right! You’re in costume, you’re Batman! I swear I’ll get it right next time!”_

_“There will not be a ‘_ next time, _’” Damian hissed. “Father this is absurd, he is a_ child _, with no prior training. He’ll die out there.”_

_“I’ve got training!”_

_“_ Stalking _is not_ training _.”_

 _“_ You _didn’t even know I was there! I’m good! I’ll-I’ll just be an extra set of eyes until I’m ready. You can train me on your off time!”_

_“Don’t be delusional, becoming Robin is much more than that. Father this is absolutely-“_

_“I think it’s a good idea.”_

_Damian blanched, then quickly began to scowl. Tim’s eyes widened. “R-really?” He asked in awe._

_“Like Tim pointed out, Batman needs a Robin. He’s proven that he can surveil without being caught, he can be useful. We can train him.”_

_Damian shook his head sharply. “I will_ not _be party to this. This…_ perversion _of_ my _legacy. You want Drake to be Robin be my guest. But don’t ask me to help him.” Damian snapped before firing his grappling hook and flying off into the night._

_“Don’t worry about him, Tim.” Bruce said, putting a hand on the younger’s shoulder. “He’ll warm up to you.”_

* * *

 

The man under the red hood was restless in his sleep. Long hair that covered his eyes matched with shaggy, uneven stubble on his jaw. He was small, maybe five foot five or five foot six. He had thin but well-muscled arms and legs. His chest, as well muscled as the rest of him, was too thin—malnourished. He slept on his stomach while his back healed from second degree burns and surgery to take out shrapnel. He’d been lucky that the Kevlar of his vest had caught most of the debris from the bomb, but some had sliced through.

Damian glanced at his watch, it had been almost five hours since the explosion that the man had saved Jason from. It had taken thirty minutes after the explosion to neutralize the Riddler, after which took another hour to do damage control, during that Bruce had taken the Red Hood in the Batmobile and had raced home. Alfred had recruited some doctors he trusted and they had operated in the Batcave, after which they had sterilized a room and placed the Red Hood in it for recovery. In which he was sleeping at this moment, morphine pumping through his system via an IV.

His suit was low-tech, but his mask was impressive. Handmade oxygen filters, infrared lenses as well as night vision. He was well equipped, an arsenal of weapons, anything a detective needed, even a mini-oxygen supply in case he was deprived for some reason. He had definitely been trained by the League. It was rather amazing actually, it was almost as if he’d been a vigilante before.

“I thought he’d be taller.” Jason said. He’d had some minor scraping and bruising but the man in the bed had taken most of the damage.

“Short people rule.” Cass hummed. Jason rolled his eyes.

Steph wheeled up to the cell, because the room the Red Hood was in really _was_ a cell. It had three opaque walls and one clear one, so that people could see in. The man lay on a metal bed that had a mattress, a pillow, and a blanket on it. A toilet and sink hid behind a pulled curtain. The room really was a cell, that was its original intended purpose, but seeing as they had nowhere else as of now to put him, that was where he was. “He looks familiar, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t think so.” Damian mumbled.

“Will the injured vigilante show continue past lunch or shall I make some food for you?” Alfred asked.

“Sorry, Alfred.” Steph said, blushing slightly. “Can I help with lunch? The DNA match won’t come back for few minutes.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I will decline. Give the poor man some peace.” Alfred said, shooing the young heroes away from the sleeping man.

Damian faltered, taking a last look at the man while the others left the room. Wait a minute… did he just move?

The man groaned, rising slowly. “Don’t move quickly.” Damian warned, using what Traya called his ‘I’m-trying-to-sound-gentle-but-I-sound-threatening’ voice. “You have second degree burns and lacerations up and down your back. You’re on morphine.”

The man sighed, straightening his back slowly so that he was sitting. “I assume you’ve done the DNA test, and you already know who I am.”

Know who he is? Was that important? Did Damian know him? “You assume correctly.” Damian lied. He watched the man’s face. The man’s blue eyes… those blue eyes, they looked so familiar. Stephanie was right, there was something about him…

The man frowned. Confused. “You just lied to me. You don’t know who I am. Which means that the test results aren’t back yet. Which means… you just want to find out what I meant.”

“I don’t know to what you are referring-“

“Ohh… this is too good. The results should be back any minute, but for now I’m going to watch you struggle to figure it out.”

“Why are you so convinced the results of a DNA test would affect me?”

“Because, if it didn’t Damian,” He knew Damian’s name. Damian was suited up and masked and this man knew Damian’s identity, “then there would be something _really_ wrong with you.”

Damian didn’t retort. “You know, I can see the wheels turning. You can’t wait to figure it out, to find out. And I’m assuming afterwards you won’t let me out of here, even though you weren’t planning on doing that originally.”

“Why wouldn’t I-?”

“You think the League is after me. This is Bruce’s way of paying me back for saving Jason’s life. No… he wouldn’t have kidnapped me. But _you_ would have. You… you feel, what? Kindred with me? Why? Because I’m ex-League? Because I’m a hero?”

Damian didn’t speak. The man smirked. “You don’t know why. You think it’s because you feel like we are ‘kindred’ but you don’t actually know.  Damn, are you going to blow a gasket when you find out.” He lay back down on his front, careful not to put pressure on his wounds. “I’ll just wait here.”

Damian scowled. “~tt~”

There was a sudden crash, the man smiled grimly. “Go on. I’ll be waiting for your return.”

There was a scream. Damian began to run. He skidded to a stop when he saw his family in the Cave. Stephanie was frozen in her chair, hands on her mouth, eyes watering. Cassandra had cuts on her hand from something breaking (shards of a china cup were on the ground below her). Bruce sat in his chair, staring ahead just as frozen as Stephanie. Jason looked confused, startled but mainly confused. Alfred had dropped a tray of food. They all stared at the computer. The computer which had been running the DNA analysis. Why…? Damian pushed passed Cassandra and over to the monitor screen.

But… that wasn’t possible!

“No…” Stephanie whispered. “No! This isn’t possible! This isn’t- we would have known! We would have-I would have known…”

“Run it again.” Damian ordered.

“Damian, this was the second run through.” Jason whispered.

“The second-?” _Who the fuck cares what number test it was?_ “Run it again!”

“Dami…” _Cassandra_. “It’s correct.”

Damian needed to leave. He needed- “This has to be wrong! If we could have brought him back we would have! It’s possible to-to hack the computer. He’s screwing with us! He’s-“ Stephanie was rambling.

“M-Master Damian, where are you going?” Alfred asked, sliding back into his role as den-mother.

“Out.”

“Master Damian-“

“Dami…”

Damian needed to leave he needed to find his Grandfather he needed to kill his Grandfather he needed he needed he needed-

“ _DAMIAN_!”

Bruce ignored their screaming, he ignored their denial, he ignored the sound of a motorcycle speeding from the Cave. Because he’d seen it all before, he knew it all. He’d done it all. Bruce stared at the screen, a hundred percent match to Timothy Drake. Somehow, he’d come back (most likely through Ra’s, that bastard) and he’d travelled here. He’d travelled to Gotham, he’d taken the Joker’s old name and he was looking for him.

He wanted the Joker. But Tim… Tim wouldn’t want revenge, he never wanted revenge, that was the beauty of Tim, he never wanted revenge. He forgave. He moved on.

He’d saved Jason. He’d saved Jason’s life.

“So,” Timothy Drake called from his room, “is everyone done processing? Because I’m hungry.”

 

_Steph_

He was sleeping. His hair was too long, he had grown stubble, and he was barely older than he had been the last time she’d seen him. Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown’s ex-dead boyfriend was sleeping. She knew he’d looked familiar. She should have known. She should have _known_.

“Steph?” She’d woken him up. It wasn’t his voice. It was, but at the same time it was deeper, more hoarse. Older. Steph took a breath that sounded too much like a sob. “Steph? Oh my god, Steph are you crying?” She wiped at her eyes. “Please don’t cry, Steph.” She took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry, Steph. I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“For not coming to you. For not telling you. For letting you lose your legs.”

“You-you didn’t. That’s wasn’t you Tim, that was the Joker.”

“I should have come back sooner.” Tim whispered, hands running through his hair.

“Come back sooner, Tim you-how long have you been alive?”

Tim met her eyes. His blue eyes. Those blue eyes. “Long enough.”

“Did you… did you even die? Did we bury you? Were you really in that coffin? Are you still there?”

“Ra’s.” Tim explained. “Ra’s wanted me alive, so a few months after I died, he brought me back.”

“ _Why_?”

Tim didn’t respond. He rubbed at his hands, nervously, and scratched the back of his head. He wouldn’t look at her for a long time. Then after a silence too long and too loud he glanced back at her. He stood, and walked forward, dragging his IV with him.

“Tim…” He held up a hand to the clear wall between them. Steph wheeled closer to wall and held her hand up to Tim’s. A thin layer of glass all that was between them.

“I missed you.” He whispered, his voice cracking.

“I missed you too.” Steph was crying again.

“Please don’t cry, Steph.”

Steph took a calming breath and wiped her eyes. “Why didn’t you come to us? Why didn’t you let us help you?”

“You wouldn’t have believed I was really alive.”

“We did after the DNA test!”

“That’s-I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Tim dropped his hand, and went back to his bed. He fiddled with his fingers, legs crossed into a pretzel. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I wasn’t planning on staying.”

“What…?”

“I’ll explain everything Steph, I will. But first you need to let me out.” He began to speak frantically, as if he’d just remembered something.

“But-you’re not healed yet. I-“

“Steph _please_ , just let me out. It’ll only take a day or two, then I’ll come back. We’ll all be safe again, and I’ll stay here, I’ll rest.”

“Tim, the League of Assassins are after you, I can’t just-“

“Steph, let me out!” The growl was so unlike him, so… feral. Those blue eyes that Steph loved so much were cold and hard. Steph flinched at the words and Tim’s eyes widened, the angry blueness disappeared. “Steph, oh my god, I’m sorry.” Steph backed up her wheelchair. “Please Steph, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not Tim.”

“Steph, no, come back! Please Steph-“

“You’re _not_ Tim.” Steph wheeled herself as far away from the cell as she could get, Tim calling her name, pleading apologies all the way.

It was Tim, that was the worst part about it. She’s seen that look on his face before, but she’d never caused it. It was Tim, that was what had been so scary. Steph put her face in her hands and began to cry.

 

_Jason_

“You made Steph cry.”

Tim Drake sat on the floor of his cell. His IV of morphine stood near his bed, he’d taken it out. He stretched his arms, muscles flexed. “I saved your life.” He said, not looking at Jason. He massaged his shoulder, wasn’t the guy in pain?

“You made Steph cry.” Jason repeated.

“Not on purpose.”

“I thought you were supposed to have the hots for her.” Tim froze. He glanced up at Jason, staring at him now with an intensity that made Jason uncomfortable. Tim smirked and returned his gaze to the floor. “What the hell is that smirk for?”

“You like her,” Tim hummed.

“W-what? No! I’m don’t! Why-why would you think that?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not jealous.”

“I’m not worried.” Jason snapped. He-he didn’t have a crush on Steph! Sure he liked her, but that didn’t mean-

“It’s not uncommon, I mean, I _have_ met Steph before. If I didn’t know Damian, I’d be surprised _he_ didn’t have a thing for her.” Tim said lightly. He stood and twisted his back, a loud crack resounded and he grit his teeth, a thin sheen of sweat covered his face and chest. When he twisted Jason saw his patched back and the deep brown of dried blood on white bandages.

Wait, was that a blotch of red? “You’re bleeding.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Jason was liking Tim Drake less and less every second. “Why aren’t you using the med-drip? You’re obviously in pain.”

“I don’t like them. They make me groggy.”

“Does death make everyone a saint?”

“Only when those left behind feel guilty. So yeah, usually.”

Jason rolled his eyes. He took a cigarette pack out of his back pocket and lit one, bringing it to his mouth. Tim frowned.

“Those’ll kill you.”

“From what I can tell that doesn’t mean much.”

Tim laughed. Actual honest to god laughter. Maybe Jason could see where Steph was coming from on the whole Tim issue. Maybe. He grinned at Jason, shaking his head slightly. “Damn, no wonder Bruce picked you.”

“How do you know it was Bruce?”

“Because I know Damian.”

“You also know Bruce.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “You’re annoying. Damian _definitely_ didn’t want you to take the job.”

“Damian isn’t the same, he’s not… I know you and Steph didn’t like him but he’s not like that anymore.”

“What? You mellowed him with your amazing talent to smoke?” Tim snorted.

“No. You did.”

Tim froze. He stood there for too long.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Tim said softly. “I’m fine.” He paused. “Are you here just to ogle at the alive ex-Robin or did you come here for a reason?”

“Just wanted to know what the fuss was about.” Jason snapped. He dropped his cigarette onto the floor and extinguished it with his boot. “Don’t have to be an ass.”

Tim didn’t respond. He slowly walked over to his bed, took the morphine drip, stuck it in a vein and closed his eyes.

 

_Cass_

Cass stood on the other side of the glass wall. She wore her suit but from what she knew about Tim Drake it wouldn’t matter. Anything he wanted to know he already did. He’d been handling it well, the not being dead. He laid on his stomach on the cot in the cell, forehead resting on his arms, IV winding out from the crook of his elbow and up around the stand that held the packet of drugs. It was almost out now. Bruce would want to give him more, keep him doped up. Jason had told Cass that Tim hadn’t liked the painkiller, he wouldn’t want another round.

His forearms sporadically constricted in his sleep, she couldn’t see his eyes but she could see his toes. She could see them curl, hold, then relax, curl, hold, hold, curl, hold, relax. He didn’t speak, he didn’t moan or heave. He was having a nightmare, but he wasn’t screaming.

He woke up with a gasp, his chest began to rise and fall, his breath quick and heavy, his muscles tightened again.

He slowly rolled onto his side and took the IV out of his arm. He glanced up, frown coloring his face.

“Cass, right?” Eyebrows pulled back for less than a second. Then they returned and they furrowed.

Cass nodded. He was surprised to see her.

“Why are you here?” He asked.

“You.”

“Obviously.”

“Healthy?” She asked.

Tim raised an eyebrow. “ _Healthy_?” He asked, confused. She nodded to him. “Am… _I_ healthy?” She nodded again, and everyone raved about how this guy was smart. “How could I be healthy? I have second degree burns and stitches all up my back.”

Cass raised an eyebrow though she knew he couldn’t see it because it was under her mask. He chewed a lip while the wheels in his head turned, before nodding slightly, agreeing with her. “Okay. I’m healthy enough.”

Cass unlocked the glass door with a swift motion. Tim’s eyes widened as she stepped inside and cracked her knuckles. “In here? You’re serious?”

Cass cocked her head. Tim took her silence for her gravity and nodded again, accepting submissively. That was interesting, no one had ever mentioned how easy he was to maneuver before. Not even Damian… which meant that he was acting differently with her. Was it because she wore the suit? Or the name? Maybe he was just feeling her out.

“Are… you waiting for me to begin?” He asked. Cass nodded slowly. Tim tensed, eyes flickering all over her body sizing her up. Then he lunged.

Cass ducked and hit him in the chest, his feet shifted in the floor, steadying his gait. Tim let out a heavy breath. “Good hit. Powerful. You learn that somewhere?” He asked. Cass didn’t respond, instead she fought.

Tim moved fluidly despite the wounds on his back. He bent and jabbed. His fighting style like Bruce’s and Damian’s… but with something extra... There was this desperateness in his art, there was a sense of need. He needed to win, not just for himself, but for others. Who those others were, Cass wasn’t quite sure, but they were there. A person like Tim did not fight for himself. She grabbed his hand, twisting it around to his back, a few of his patched lacerations had opened spilling red blood on his new pristine bandages. (Alfred would be so pissed.) He let out a sharp cry of pain and Cass released him suddenly. He fell to his knees on the ground, breathing heavily.

“You’re good.” He turned around, his pain hidden but not that well.

Cass held out a hand. Tim studied it carefully before taking it and letting Cass help him up and onto his cot. She handed him the morphine but he waved it off rubbing his forehead wearily. “You need it.” She insisted.

“I’m fine.”

“No.”

“I’m fine, Cass.”

“Tim.” Cass bent down to be level with him. He grit his teeth, jaw muscles tensing. She held out the drip. “Take.”

“ _Why_?”

“Friend.”

“Fr-“ He looked surprised and he let the Cass stick the IV in a vein. “Really? _Me_?”

Cass put an arm on his shoulder. Tim let out a loud sigh as the narcotics hit his bloodstream. “Sleep. Get better.”

“I was healthy enough to fight you.”

“Next time? I still beat you, but longer. Maybe fifteen minute. Time next? Maybe not.”

Tim held back a smile. “Okay, Cass. Sure.”

“Don’t think?”

“How about we wait until I’m at a hundred percent before making bets.”

Cass raised an eyebrow and although she knew he couldn’t see it she was sure he knew she was. “Sure.”

“You think you’ll win.”

“Know.”

Tim didn’t bother holding back the smile. “It was good to meet you, Cass.” He said softly as he began to lay on his front, his eyes drooping slowly. Cass opened the glass door again and locked it behind her. He stared at the floor, pupils dilated from the pain relief.

“You too, Tim.”

 

_Damian_

“’Morning, sunshine.”

Damian groaned. He rubbed his eyes wearily, his head pounded. Oh, god. “What did I do last night?” Damian grumbled, peeking out from under his eyelids, the lights in the room he was in were too bright.

“You know, that’s a lot scarier coming from your mouth than anyone else’s.” Colin teased. Damian glared at him as much as he could through squinted eyes.

“Did I…?”

“No.” Maya assured her friend. “No one is dead.”

Damian rubbed his forehead, hoping the headache would go away soon. “We found Nightwing running around Bludhaven looking for blood.” Colin debriefed. He specified ‘Nightwing’ which meant that Damian hadn’t went berserk out of costume, good. That would have been a nightmare for Wayne Enterprises public relations. “Five gangbangers were beaten to a bloody pulp about fifteen feet away but they were all still breathing.”

Someone else sat down next to Damian. Damian seemed to be on the floor of his apartment, Maya and Colin sat next to him near his head, the third person sat near his middle. There was a clink of a glass on tile. “And after what Maya found out for you, she was worried.” A new voice said. Great, the whole gang was here.

“And you are an idiot.” Jon finished helpfully.

“So she decided that I suddenly was not allowed to have secrets?” Damian mumbled, accepting the aspirin that Traya so graciously offered him.

“Exactly!” Colin exclaimed. Damian glared at the man. He took a swig of water from the glass that his friends had brought him.

“So, you going to tell us why you flipped and what this has to do with your Gramps?” Colin asked.

“Can you turn off the lights?” Damian mumbled. Traya raised an eyebrow but rose to do as her friend asked. “Grandfather has… resurrected someone.”

“What?”

“Are you serious?”

“I thought he couldn’t do that.”

“Apparently he can. And he has.” Damian responded.

“Okay, so who did he bring back?”

Damian sucked in a breath, and took a long sip of water. The looks on their faces, so full of concern, so full of fear, their minds were coming up with the worst possible people. They wouldn’t guess, they couldn’t guess. He couldn’t leave them in suspense forever… “Tim.”

“ _What_?” Colin cried.

“Tim-That isn’t possible.” Traya whispered. Maya wouldn’t meet her friends’ eyes she just stared at Damian.

 Jon’s mouth dropped open.  “D-Damian, are you sure?”

“Positive. The computer confirmed it.”

“What-what can we do?” Traya asked.

“ _Do_?” Damian asked.

“To help.” Traya offered. She turned to Jon who met her eyes and nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah. Whatever we can, however we can,” Jon added.

“Don’t tell them.” Damian said quickly.

Traya and Jon looked at one another, eyes wide. “Damian… you have to tell them, we can’t keep this a secret.”

But they couldn’t tell them. They couldn’t-Damian couldn’t let them know. Not yet. He needed time. He needed-

“You have to tell them.” Colin agreed. “They _deserve_ to know.”

“Not yet-“

“Yes, yet. Damian you need to tell them and you need to tell them now.”

“Not-not yet. I can’t-.” Damian stuck his head in his hands. His head was still throbbing, heavy and hard, god it hurt. He couldn’t think about this now. He needed time. He needed to talk to Timothy. “I need to go back to Gotham.”

His friends exchanged expressions. Damian could tell that they disapproved of his request. “Afterwards. I promise. I’ll tell them afterwards. But first,” Damian stood, his headache was getting worse. “I need to get back to Gotham.”

Colin sighed. “I’ll take you.”

“I got here on my own, I can get back on my own.”

“Actually… you can’t. Apparently the gangbangers you hospitalized did a number on your bike.” Damian groaned. “So you’re stuck with me!”

“I’ll stay here. Jon, Traya, go back and make sure the Titans aren’t planning on going off-world anytime soon. We don’t want them to deal with the end of the world when they find out their late best friend is still alive.” Maya told the others.  “Damian, go take a shower. You smell like Gotham.” Damian shot glare at her but complied.

When he trudged off he heard Jon add: “Keep an eye on him, Col. As soon as he’s done, make sure that he gets to the Tower.”

“I can hear you!” Damian called from his bathroom.

“We _know_!” Jon and Maya responded. Sometimes Damian hated his friends. 

* * *

 

“I’ll wait here.” Colin told his friend, offering Damian and his brother a sense of privacy. Damian knew that he was just being courteous, but it meant a lot anyway.

“Thank you.”  He walked down the hallway, to where Tim was being held. Tim was sitting on the floor, legs crisscrossed. When he heard footsteps he looked up, blank face quickly dissolving into a frown.

“Didn’t think you’d be back.”

“That’s not-that’s not true, is it?” Damian asked. Tim looked surprised of all things.

“Damian, why wouldn’t it be true?”

“Timothy-“

“Oh, so I’m _Timothy_ now? Got sick of ‘Drake’ and ‘Pretender’?”

“I-“

“You know, I actually thought we were off to a good start. I didn’t expect you to run away. Although I should have, it’s all this family knows how to do.”

“You sound like Jason.”

“It doesn’t take Lee Thompkins to see that you don’t give a shit about anyone not related to you biologically.”

“Timothy, that isn’t true.”

Tim scowled, blue eyes set to kill. Damian had hoped that his brother would never use that expression, that expression that he used to have so often when looking at Tim. “ _Don’t_ \- do that. Don’t pretend we’re all fine and dandy. Don’t pretend you cared.”

“I did, Timothy, I really did.”

“ _That’s a lie_!” Tim roared. “You never cared for me! You didn’t even care for Steph, not as long as she didn’t _worship_ you!”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did not… care like you say. But I was wrong, Timothy. I was wrong, I should have cared more. I should have protected you-”

“Survivor’s guilt does not a loving brother make.” Tim snapped.

“You’re right, again. It doesn’t. A loving brother is a loving brother for no purpose other than that of his sibling. And I’ve learned that now, Timothy, I’ve learned that I was an ass. I should have protected you and I should have trained you because that is what a brother should _do_. I want-I want to try again, Timothy. I want to help you.”

Tim studied his face the same way that Tim would look at case files. He was trying to find the lie, the trick, the catch, but there was none, because Damian really _did_ mean it. He wanted to save his little brother. He had learned that when it came to family members in need and pride, pride always lost. He’d made that mistake once, he wouldn’t again.

“Then let me out.”

“Okay,” Damian stepped towards the door. It was cramped in the cell it made sense he would want to leave. “Where do you want to go?”

“Downtown Gotham, with your help maybe-“ Damian stopped. He couldn’t let Tim leave the Manor, the League was still out there. Grandfather was still looking for him. Tim saw the change. “What…?”

“I cannot let you out, Timothy. You-Grandfather is still after you.”

“I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

“Clearly you haven’t.”

“The only reason I’m here is because you failed to learn a lesson! Jason shouldn’t be out there!”

“Jason is good, just as you were.”

“Good enough to miss a bomb.” Tim muttered.

 _You did too_. Damian hated himself for thinking it. It had been a quick and fleeting thought, but he still hated himself, because it proved he hadn’t changed. Not at all. He would keep trying. He had to.

“I can’t do it. It’s for your own safety.”

“People always say that, not even thinking to ask why the one asking to be in the unsafe situation wants to be.”

Damian blinked. Timothy was right, he was _always_ right. “Alright, so why do you want to leave?”

“Bruce is in trouble.”

“Father is always in trouble.”

“It’s _worse_ , Damian. They’re working together. All of them, Gotham villains network, you know that, and now… now they’re planning something big and bad, which means that Selina will be getting in on it soon. He’ll want everyone to know, even the Bat’s main squeeze.”

“Timothy…” This didn’t make sense. Why would there be no chatter? Stephanie would have picked up something. Father would have.

“It’s big, Damian. I’m not-I’m not crazy, this is real. Bruce is in danger.” Timothy seemed to be pleading. “I know what they’re planning, if you would just- _listen_ to me!”

“I’m sorry, Timothy. I need-“

Tim groaned angrily, cutting Damian off sharply. “You don’t-listen! You try-I get it Damian you _think_ you’re trying but you’re really not.” He was getting angry, quickly. Way too quickly. Were these effects of the Lazarus Pit? Or were they Tim? The real Tim…

Damian really didn’t know his brother at all.

 

_Alfred_

Alfred dabbed at the wound softly, the skin around the wound was raw and pink. No sign of infection, that was good. He moved onto the next laceration, checking it for disease and to see how it was healing. Timothy’s face contorted and Alfred moved his hands slower and softer, he didn’t want to hurt Timothy. Timothy was too young for his face to have that expression. That pain…

He hadn’t been eating well. How had he been getting food? Timothy wasn’t one to rob, but then again, he wasn’t one to abandon his family, wasn’t one to leave them, to come back from death and not speak to them, for _years_. He hadn’t grown up from a fifteen year old boy to a twenty year old like he should have. He hadn’t learned how to get his license or graduate high school. He hadn’t been in Alfred’s charge while he grew. Alfred wasn’t there when he got his college acceptance letter because he never got one. He never had the chance.

He had been in Alfred’s charge and Alfred had failed him. Had let him die.

 _Bollocks. Don’t cry_ , Alfred chided himself. You _can’t cry. Not here, not where they could walk in._ Not where his children could see him.

“A-Alfred?” Oh dear, the poor boy seemed to be conscious.

“Just retouching your dressings, Master Timothy. Please, do not strain yourself.” His back rose and fell anxiously.

“Al-Alfred-I-“

“Please, sir. I do not wish to cause you pain, but I must do this.”

“No-no. I-“ Tim sucked in a large breath, eyes clamped shut as he tolerated the pain. Alfred cleaned and inspected as gently as possible. “Bruce-trouble-I ne-you always-“ Alfred pressed against an angry red stitch, checking to see if the inflammation was contaminated. “You always-believed me. Always. Bruce is-“ Tim cried out as Alfred put ointment on his burns. “Danger. Villains-network-trial-danger.” He breathed out the four words between heavy ragged breaths. Alfred was sure that together the string of words meant something, but he had to worry about Timothy first. Family always came first.

“Please Master Timothy, just rest now.” Alfred spoke softly, but as he saw Timothy’s back return to its unconscious breathing pattern. He was sleeping again, good. He deserved a good night’s sleep, even if it was from pain.

 

 

_Bruce_

“You have to go see him, Bruce.” Jason said. He was the third person to say that to Bruce today. Bruce hadn’t visited Tim yet for a reason, he was trying to find Tim’s hideout. And he hadn’t yet, which was concerning him. Where had Tim been staying?

“Later.”

“ _Now_ , Bruce.” Steph snapped. She had been out of sorts since she’d talked to him. Which was partly what Bruce was afraid of…

He had failed Tim and he prayed Tim didn’t blame him, but he knew that that as wishful thinking. Of course Tim hated him, Tim wouldn’t want to see him.

At least he had an excuse.

“Sir.”

“Not you too, Alfred.”

“You should see him.”

Bruce didn’t respond. “Um... Mr. Batman, sir?” Colin. Only Colin spoke to him like that. “Can I talk to you? Alone?” That was… a surprise.  Even Damian hadn’t expected that. Bruce’s son looked between his friend’s angry gaze and his father’s stony one. Bruce glanced at his son, who gave the barest nod.

“Out.” Damian ordered.

“As you wish, sir.” Alfred said with a polite nod, he took Steph by the chair and began to roll her up the ramp.

“Alfred! Stop! Don’t do this Bruce, don’t distract yourself by-“

“Miss Stephanie, please.” Alfred implored.

Steph quieted her protests and allowed herself to be taken upstairs. Jason frowned but shortly followed. Damian glanced at Cassandra who took one last long look at the three of them before turning and leaving. Only after a few seconds of silence did Damian realize that ‘alone’ meant that he too would have to leave.

“You. Me. Afterwards.” Damian told Colin. Bruce wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but whatever it meant Colin nodded in response and flashed him a small comforting smile. Damian left.

“It’s just us, Abuse. What is it?”

“It’s none of my business.”

“It isn’t.”

“But, you should see him.”

“Colin…”

“I can go with you if you’re scared.” _Scared_? Sometimes Bruce was amazed at who was friends with his son. Colin saw a look on Bruce’s face and paled a little. “I mean, if you’re scared but you’re not because you’re Batman.”

“Colin, how long have I known you?”

Colin thought for a second. “Over fifteen years.”

“How long have you been calling me Mister Batman?”

“I still do.”

“Are you… afraid of me?” Bruce asked.

“Duh.” Colin said. “Everyone’s scared of you.” Well that was comforting.

“But you still tell me the truth.”

“You need to hear it.” Colin crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe it was time for Bruce to start thinking about another partner, someone who wasn’t and never had been a Robin…

“Do you think…” Bruce lowered his voice. “Do you think that-“ He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t finish anything, not even saving Tim.

“Yes. He can forgive you. I think he does. Tim is… forgiving. He’s heroic. It’s okay. Go talk to him.”

Bruce didn’t look at him. “Stay here.”

“Yes, Batman, sir!” Colin gave a salute and Bruce almost cracked a smile.

Bruce walked over to the cell, Tim was in there. Where else would he be? He was doing forms. He didn’t stop, nor did he look at Bruce. But he knew he was there. Tim always knew. That was one of the reasons Bruce had chosen Tim. Okay, that wasn’t true. Tim had chosen Bruce, and Bruce was glad he did.

“Are you going to just stand there?”

“Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Bullshit.” Tim froze. “You okay?” He asked.  Bruce frowned, did Tim see something?

“Fine. Why?”

“Your hands are shaking.” Bruce looked down and clenched them, stopping the motion.  “Tell me the truth, Bruce. Why didn’t you kill him?”

“You know why.”

“Yeah, but I want you to tell me.”

“Once I begin to go through that door, I can never go back. There will be no stopping me. I can’t do that.”

“Then let me.”

That’s what he wanted to do. He wanted to kill the Joker. Oh god. Oh dear god. Bruce needed-Bruce needed to get him help. The best help he could find-Leslie! He had to call Leslie and- “Listen to me, Bruce. Before you do the whole thing. The whole ‘no you don’t really mean it’ thing, ‘no you shouldn’t want that, no we can help you’. The ‘Justice!!’ argument. The ‘don’t sink to their level’ argument. I’ve heard it all. It won’t change my mind. Just let me out Bruce. Let me save Gotham, and then put me away. Send me to Arkham or Blackgate. Blacklist me, call me a villain. Just… please Bruce. I have to save you.”

He wanted to kill the Joker. And he wanted Bruce to help him. Bruce looked at the floor, shifting his feet. How could he have screwed up so much his child wanted to kill someone? Sure Bruce always wanted to kill people, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. In his deranged resurrected mind Tim thought he would be saving Bruce… Bruce had really fucked up.

“Today is six years.” He said softly.

“Bruce if you don’t let me out, if you go on as you do, going on patrol… there’s going to be another death anniversary around now. Please, just let me out.”

He couldn’t. God help him Tim was asking him for one thing and he couldn’t. “Tim…”

“I’m not like you Bruce. I never was. And that’s okay. But Bruce, please, just this once, _trust me_.”

Five people had told Bruce today that he needed to see Tim. It was ironic really, seeing someone on the anniversary of their death and having an argument.

“I love you Timothy.” He whispered to his son, who just shook his head. “But I can’t. You need help. We’re going to get it for you.” He turned his back and did the only thing Bruce Wayne knew how to do well. He walked away.

“Happy death day to me.” Tim Drake mumbled. 

* * *

 

_“Tim, Tim wake up.” Tim groaned, his eyes flitting open. Steph smiled next to him. They were both fully clothed, laying on Steph’s bed. Tim had been working late on a case in Steph’s designated room (she wasn’t always there because she had actual living parents, but sometimes Tim would stay there to work if she wasn’t sleeping there) and he guessed he must have fallen asleep._

_“Steph, what are you doing here?” He mumbled, rubbing sleep away from his eyes._

_“It’s my room, Tim. What’re_ you _doing here?”_

_“Nothing…”_

_“Aww… ya missed me, didn’t you?” Steph hummed happily._

_Tim felt a blush color his cheeks and ears. “N-no!”_

_“You_ looove _me,” Steph sang, nudging Tim. Tim smiled and leaned in for a kiss and Steph shook her head, bouncing off the bed. “Brush your teeth first.” Tim pouted but walked out of Steph’s door and into the hallway so that he could go to his own bathroom._

_“Oh! And afterward get dressed. There’s a surprise downstairs.” Steph called after him._

_Tim brushed his teeth, and pulled on a t shirt and jeans. Surprise? What surprise could there possibly be? And why? Tim returned to Steph’s room to grab his laptop and stuck it under his arm as he walked downstairs._

_“Hey, Steph, what’s the big-“_

_“SURPRISE!”_

_Tim was very glad all of his friends were superheroes, because for a second he freaked out and tried to punch Bart who had jumped suddenly in front of him. Bart zipped under the punch and swung an arm around Tim with a loud cheerful laugh. “Dude! Happy birthday!” Bart cried._

_Tim looked around, all of the Titans were here, even Maya and Colin. Steph, Alfred, Bruce. They were all here, all in one room with cheerful grins on their faces. It was all for him. Conner grinned and snapped one of the cone party hats on his head. “Great reflexes.” He said sarcastically. Tim rolled his eyes. “Did you_ forget _about your birthday?” He asked._

_Tim shrugged sheepishly. “Thanks you guys.” He hugged his friends one by one, each of them wished him a happy birthday._

_Steph nudged her boyfriend. “Hey. Good surprise?”_

_“Yeah.” It was weird, this was the first time that he’d had birthday like this. When his parents had been alive, they were always away, and when they weren’t his birthdays… well they were nothing like this. “Thank you.” He said with a grin._

_“Sirs and ma’ams, may I urge you to adjourn the dining room to where there will be the traditional singing of ‘Happy Birthday.’” Alfred announced. The crowd of heroes moved to the next room to where Jon and Kon herded Tim into a chair sitting in front of a cake. Jon lit the candles with his heat vision and the crowd sang the traditional melody. Tim smiled and blew out the candles. Alfred began cutting the cake and Steph pressed a kiss into Tim’s hair._

_“And many mooore~”_


	7. I'm Not Batman, I Have Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka Long Time No See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAAAT I DIDNT MISS AN UPDATE PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH
> 
> Yeah, sorry this is late guys
> 
> p.s. one of these scenes was my absolute first and favorite scenes to write so like I hope yall enjoy it???

Titans Tower stood on a small island off of the shore of San Francisco. It was a large T, built with silver steel; its windows were shaded and seemed tinged blue although they were clear from the inside. It was fortified, had some of the best security on the planet but still got destroyed every fifth Tuesday and is home to some of the world’s most annoying teenaged superheroes in Damian’s opinion. Of course, though, most of them are no longer teens.

Damian hadn’t been here in over eight years.

Colin put a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t need to say anything, he knew that the hand is comfort to Damian enough, but he spoke anyway, leading his friend towards the door. “C’mon. They’re waiting.”

Every step Damian wanted to turn back. The first ten years of his life he grew up in a world of ‘kill or be killed’ and every now and then his survival instincts of ‘fight or flight’ would spring back up—like now. Right now. Right now when they were screaming for him to run, run as far as possible because he shouldn’t be here. He lost all right to be here when Tim became Robin and he started acting like an asshole, even if he didn’t own up to it at the time.

They sat at the top of the T in the middle. The room there was the large common room which is also used as a debriefing room and lounge. The couches were facing away from the door, which was good as everyone is sitting down and therefore sitting with their backs to where Damian and Colin entered. If they’d seen him coming well… Damian could _take_ a Kryptonian-Human hybrid and an Amazonian but Speedsters he always had some trouble with, especially when he had to deal with the other two. Traya, Maya, and Jon stood opposite the couch, Jon’s eyes lit up when Damian walked in which confused some of his younger teammates.

“Jon, what-“ Cassandra Sandsmark said, her voice was a little deeper than it had been so many years before. Damian could see her blonde hair and red shirt as she leaned against the couch. Bartholomew Allen and Conner Kent sat on either side of her. The speedster seemed to be shorter than his friends and he wasn’t constantly vibrating anymore which Damian assumed was a credit to his age.

“We told you that you were here because of something important,” Traya began, as gently as she could.

“But since it’s of a…” Jon continued.

“ _Bat_ nature,” Traya supplied.

“We have decided that it would be best if Nightwing was here to tell you.” Damian had just about reached the couch about then. At his moniker the three Teen Titans jumped up, fists balled, and anger rising.

Jon, Traya, and Maya, put hands on their teammates’ shoulders. “You all need to hear this.” Colin insisted.

The clone half-brother of Jon growled. Damian could feel his tactile telekinesis vibrating in the air near his body. “We should beat you to a pulp.”

“Believe me, Clone Boy-“

“ _Don’t-_ call me that!”

“-I would not have come, but this is important and… you may want to be sitting down for this.” Damian walked to the other side of the couch, back facing the window as his friends’ were.

The three of them looked between themselves before warily sitting. There were some chairs set up and the five older Titans sat opposite their youngers.

Damian wasn’t quite sure where to begin. “Something has… happened.”

“Just spill it ‘Wing, then you can be on your way and we can all go back to our lives.” Cassie snapped, arms crossed.

“I’m afraid, Sandsmark, that there will be no ‘going back to our lives’ after this.” Damian stated just as crossly as Cassie had. He took a deep breath.

“Then stop screwin’ around and tell us already!” Bart imput.

“Timothy Drake is alive.” Damian said. There was a silence. At first it seemed proper, as it did take some time to process that a once dead family member and friend was now living, but then the silence continued. And continued. And continued.

When one of the three of them finally spoke it was the Amazonian. She let out a sob, tears trickling down her cheeks. “Do-do you think this is a _joke_?”

Damian exchanged a confused look with his friends. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you think _we’re_ a _joke_?” She let out a scream and flew at Damian sending the two of them flying into the bulletproof-but-not-shatter-resistant window that served as a wall. A loud _crack_ resounded as Damian’s head hit the glass. She held him up with one hand and pulled back the other and punched him across the face, which resulted in another _crack_ this one sounding harder than the first had. “How _dare_ you! How dare you come in here and terrify us and then lie to us! And about Tim!” She hit him again. Jon stood and grabbed her by the collar of her red shirt, yanking her back so hard that she flew into the ground, sprawling. Jon caught Damian (he’d been held some feet above the floor) and drifted him to the ground. Both Bart and Conner were standing now, furious. “HOW DARE YOU!” Cassie roared.

“It’s not a lie!” Colin said. “I saw him myself! He’s real. He’s alive.”

“ _How_?”

“Gr-Ra’s Al Ghul revived him and hid him for years. It was only recently that we even knew he was alive.”

“How recently?” Conner demanded.

Damian didn’t meet their eyes. “A day or two.”

“A day or two.” Cassie repeated. “You’ve known that Tim was alive for a day or two and you didn’t tell us?”

“We wanted Damian to tell you and he and Colin needed to return to Gotham-“ Traya explained, but Wonder Girl was having none of it. She scrambled to her feet and stormed out of the room, Bart and Conner zipped after her.

“Well, that was less of a disaster than it could have been.” Maya said optimistically.

“Jon and I should go talk to them.” Colin said. “They like us best.”

Jon nodded in agreement. “Maybe we can calm them down.” He added.

Traya nodded, rubbing her eyes wearily. “I’ll go get the jet ready for take off, no doubt they’ll want to see Tim as soon as possible.

“Are you alright, Damian?” Maya asked. Damian was sure that he had a bump on the back of his head and he had definitely heard something crack in his jaw, which probably wasn’t good, but with adrenaline still running through his system he felt fine. He told Maya so. She nodded and she offered that she and Damian could help with prepping the jet. So the five set off on their missions, it was time to bring Tim’s friends to him.

* * *

“ _You don’t deserve to be Robin! You never have!”_

“ _Damian-“ Jon tried to calm his friend, laying a hand gently on the older man’s shoulder before Damian shrugged it off violently._

“ _Robin was_ my _title! You haven’t the training! You haven’t the intellect! And you haven’t the blood!” Damain roared._

“ _Oh, right! I forgot!” Tim yelled back, throwing his arms out in anger. “I’m not a Wayne. You telling me that over and over for the past year hadn’t made it sink in yet! I’m_ so sorry _that I stole your vacated mantle! You aren’t Robin anymore and that was the reason I became Robin in the first place! I became Robin ‘cuz after you left Batman went off the rails! He_ needed _a Robin and I just happened to come along. I’m sorry that I wasn’t born a Wayne, I’m sorry that my blood isn’t blue, but, you know what Damian? Me being Robin? It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t left I never would have become him so if you want someone to blame, blame your fucking self! And yeah, I may not have the smarts you consider necessary of Robin, but I found out who you and your Dad were pretty quickly so suck on that!” Tim stormed out the door and slammed it to the sound of Damian bellowing back his response._

Useless, I’m fucking useless! _Tim pushed past his friends (the ones who weren’t still in the infirmary from the last mission. The ones Tim had failed) who had been eavesdropping on the fight. Bart called out to him but he ignored the speedster and marched off to his room. Slamming the door, because it seemed to be one of the only helpful ways to get out his anger, he threw himself onto the bed._ Useless. Useless. _The words swam around in his brain. Each of them said in a different tone of voice but the voice itself was clearly Damian’s. Tim squeezed his welling eyes shut, hoping that the sob climbing in his throat wouldn’t escape._

_It did._

_Tim shuddered with the sob, hands clenched into his pillow with such force that they began to shake._

Useless. Useless. Useless.

_Tim was useless. It was his fault. All of it was his fault. It was his fault that Kon was in the infirmary. It was his fault that Maya might never be able to walk again. It was his fault that the bad guy got away. Damian was right, he didn’t deserve to be Robin. He never deserved to be Robin._

_Tim hadn’t heard the knocking, but he did hear the door open. Tim sprang up and quickly wiped his face, hoping whoever it was didn’t see the streaks that marred his face, or the wet spot on his pillow case._

“ _Robin?” Oh. Traya. Tim ignored her, he heard her walk forward softly. “You left your mask…” She didn’t finish her sentence. This wasn’t the first time that Damian and Tim had fought like this, and it certainly wasn’t the last. This fight in particular had hit a soft spot for Tim, and he’d thrown his mask down before Damian had tried to attack him the first time (Colin and Jon had held him back). “Robin?” Maybe if Tim ignored her she’d go away._

_It wasn’t that he had anything against Traya. In fact, he liked her a lot. She and Jon were great. That was when they weren’t siding with Damian in a fight. Granted many times they abstained from joining the arguments and just moderated and did damage control but… oh. That was what this was. Traya was doing damage control._

“ _Tim?” All of the older heroes in the Titans knew Tim’s real name, it came with the whole being friends (or at least allies) of the family for a long time._

“ _I’m fine, Traya. Go away.”_

_But Traya sat down next to him on his bed, and held out the dark green mask for Tim to take. “Want to talk?”_

“ _No.”_

“ _Tim…” He hated when she used that tone of voice on him. Like he was her little brother, like he was_ her _responsibility._

“ _I said I’m fine.”_

“ _Damian was wrong.”_

_That was… unexpected._

“ _Damian was wrong, and you were right to argue with him.”_

Then why didn’t you back me up?

“… _say something?” She asked softly when he remained silent._

“ _Why didn’t you back me up?”_

“ _Because I’ve learned the hard way that arguing with Damian will almost never get you anywhere.”_

_Tim took the mask but didn’t look at her._

“ _But that’s not an excuse. I should have backed you up. I’m sorry.”_

“ _Why would you anyway? You’re one of them.” Tim spat._

“ _Them?”_

_He shouldn’t have said that. “Never mind.”_

“ _No, Tim, obviously this is really important to you. What do you mean ‘them’?” She asked kindly._

“ _You know… a blue blood.” The second half was muttered, but he knew that Traya had heard him._

“ _Blue blood? You mean…” There was a pause, and then a gasp. “Tim, oh Timmy. Look at me.” Tim wouldn’t. “I said look at me.” Tim glanced up at her. At her big blue eyes, and her tilted lids, and her long dark lashes. She looked… sad. Tim didn’t like that expression so he looked away._

_Traya got down on her knees, and bent so that she was right in front of Tim’s face. She wiped a hand across his cheek, running her fingers over the tracks his tears had made on his face. “Feel my face.”_

“ _What?”_

“ _Feel it. Feel my hands, my arms, my legs.” Tim hesitantly touched her face. “Tim, what do you feel?”_

“ _Skin?” What on Earth could Traya be getting at?_

“ _Exactly. Feel that again, Tim. Do you feel the muscles? Feel my lips, my hair. Those are cells. Living, breathing, human cells.”_

_Oh._

“ _Tim, blood has nothing to do with being a superhero. I’m not an android. I was not created by my father, but I love him. I still work with him as a hero. I helped create and sustain a team. I was trained with Damian and Jon and Colin. I created my own wind manipulators and I taught Maya and Damian everything they know about hacking. Tim, I am a hero. And not because I am the daughter of Red Tornado. Not because I have his blood, or lack thereof, running through my veins. I’m a hero because it’s who I am, and it’s who you are too. Tim, blood has nothing to do with it. Sure, maybe Maya and Jon and Damian and Bart are related to their superhero mentors-“_

“ _And Kon, and Cassie.”_

“ _How are Kon and Cassie related?”_

“ _Kon is the son of Superman, Traya. And Cassie is a friggin’ demigod.”_

“ _Okay. I’ll give you them. But the point is Tim, it doesn’t matter who your parents are. Colin’s parents weren’t superheroes. My original ones weren’t either. Tim, it doesn’t matter who your parents are because blood does not a hero make. Tim, you_ are _Robin. You are a_ good _Robin. You’re kind, something Damian had to work for, you’re smart, something I think Damian still has trouble with.” she said lightly. Tim didn’t laugh so she continued. “You’re a good fighter, and a good leader.”_

“ _But I’m not. Kon is hurt and Maya-“_

“ _Even good leaders have bad days, Tim. You can’t save everyone. But no one is dead, and that’s always a plus in my book.” Tim couldn’t hold her eye contact so he looked away, a blush crawling up his neck. “Tim, you are the perfect Robin for this team. And I’ll stick by that until I die. Even in front of Damian.” Then she hugged him._

“ _Ew! Traya! Get off!”_

“ _Not until you value your own worth.”_

“ _Okay! Okay! I value my own worth! Now get off me!” Traya giggled and released him._

“ _Ready to go see your friends? They saw how upset you were. They’re worried about their Robin.”_

“ _Yeah, okay.” Tim stood and put his mask back on his face._

“ _Tim, you know you can always talk to me, right?”_

“ _Yeah, I know. Thanks Trays.”_

“ _Anytime.”_

* * *

 _New rule_ , Tim thought to himself as he blinked awake blearily, _no more being blown up_. The pain in his back had dulled some but he was still sleeping a lot as he had no distractions and the pain went away when he was unconscious.

Bruce had switched out his morphine drip at some point with a new one, but Tim barely used it. He disliked the painkillers. He slowly moved into a sitting position, having a back where any type of pressure put on it hurt was very tedious.

In his current state he couldn’t get out of the cell much less fight and kill the Joker. Staying to heal wasn’t an option either, they were almost ready and no one would listen to Tim which meant that Bruce would still patrol one night soon, and then he wouldn’t come home.

Jason Todd had come to see him multiple times; apparently he’d been grounded and was very bored over the weekend. He was rash, impulsive, but a very good fighter. He wasn’t the detective Bruce was, nor was he the assassin that Damian was, but he was determined to be a good Robin and determination went a long way. One time he and Cass had sparred in the hallway on the other side of Tim’s glass cell wall. Jason hadn’t beaten Cass, but he was good, Tim had to admit. He fought like he seemed to live, with a sense of spite towards the world and with a resolve to win.

Tim was glad that Jason had been in replacement, he was glad that Cass had been Steph’s too. They both fit the part. Bruce needed them.

Alfred knocked on the glass politely, and Tim raised an eyebrow before standing, walking over to greet the butler. “Yes?” He asked.

“Sir, some visitors have come. I have been told to take you to them. I ask that you do not struggle, I wish you no harm Master Timothy.”

“I understand, Alfred.” Tim said with a nod.

Alfred unlocked the door and Tim raised his hands in surrender as he stepped out. “Sir, I am sorry about the conditions we have kept you in-“

“No, it’s understandable Alfred. I’m not… how I used to be and I’m healing. It’s smart that you keep me there, I can’t escape.”

“Sir, I have to ask you to walk in front of me.”

“I understand.” Tim repeated. And he truly did. Treating him like an enemy made sense, it really did. They didn’t want him to escape and kill the Joker. It was annoying, but Tim would have done the same thing if he was in Bruce’s position.

He walked slowly at first, gauging how much pain he took with each step, slowly he walked faster and faster until he was moving at a normal speed his face masking his pain. They walked through the Cave and into one of the training rooms; acrobatic equipment, mats, Tim knew that the blank wall on his left was really retractable and covered an arsenal of weapons. Tim wondered if his bo staff was still in its place…

Damian stood in the room, he sat on a balance beam, long lean legs reaching the ground. His back bent in a very un-Damian way, it almost looked like he was slouching. He was wearing his Nightwing costume. “Really? What, you’re going to fight me?” Tim stuck his lower lip out, in a mock-pout. “But Damian, I’m in _pain_.”

Damian said nothing.

“Really? Are you just going to stand there? You know, I do the whole staring-not-talking thing better than you.”

He still said nothing. Instead the door behind Tim opened. He turned. Huh, when did Alfred leave? The three people who had entered were friends of Damian’s, old Titans. Jonathan Kent, Flamebird, he wore his costume too, in fact all three of them did. Tim felt a little under-dressed. Colin, Abuse, stood behind Jon. Maya, NoBody, walked over to Damian and sat next to him on the beam. She took off her mask, holding it under her arm.

“Really? What is this? An intervention?”

No one still said anything, they all just continued to stare.

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the buzz of pain from the healing skin he was stretching. “Interventions work better when you talk.”

Jon and Colin sat with their backs to one of the walls, eyes continuing to look at Tim. Tim frowned, what were they trying to do? Get him to talk? Annoy him? And where was Traya? She wasn’t here, was she staying with the Titans?

“Is there a point to this? Is the point that you’re not allowed to talk?” He asked. Damian gave a small nod. Why wouldn’t they be allowed to talk? Well, they could apparently answer him through nods, or did Damian just slip up?

The door opened again and Traya walked in, she glanced at Tim her eyes lighting up slightly. She gave him a small smile, then she held open the door.

They walked in, each glaring at the elder Titans. Cassie walked in first; she froze when she saw him. Conner was next; he let out a small gasp. Finally Bart walked through; he looked around the room in that hyper way of his before his eyes finally settled on Tim. In a blink of an eye he had tackled Tim, slamming his back against the floor to which Tim wanted to cry out, but he was too busy hugging the speedster. His other friends soon were on him too.

They were all crying and talking at once, Tim’s head was slowly feeling the pain from his back more and more, it dug into his mind and distracted him from what they were saying. He pushed Bart off of him and sat up, back relieved of pressure he could give his full attention to him.

Cassie was bawling, her arms around him. Conner was crying too but given that both Cassie and Bart were holding Tim he didn’t really have space to join. He just held Tim’s face in his hands, staring into his eyes. They were all talking and it was mainly babble about how much they loved him, how much they never thought they would see him again, how glad they were he was alive.

Oh god, his friends were here. Conner didn’t look that much older than he did at sixteen, but his voice was deeper. His eyes were so blue and filled with tears. Then there was Cassie who was kissing his face, and whispering how much she’d missed him and how she was so glad he was back, her face was streaked from crying and her blonde hair was wild. Then Bart, tiny Bart had gotten so much taller and wider, his shoulders and chest had filled out and his hair had been tamed—cut to a normal length as opposed to the mop he’d had for so long, and he was just hanging onto Tim so tightly that Tim didn’t think he would ever let go. God his friends, they were all alive and they were okay. Tim didn’t even know he was crying.

Eventually his friends ran out of things to say and the four of them just sat in a pile on the floor. The tears never really dried, every time they looked at one another a new flood would roll down their faces. They held one another as if that was the only thing that mattered, because it was, Tim was back. That was all any of them could process for a long time.

Finally a conversation rose again. “How-how did you…?” Cassie tried to ask.

“Ra’s. He brought me back.”

Conner let out a laugh, “You know, I might ask Ma to make a pie for him as a thank you.” He joked.

Bart was holding Tim’s hand, he wouldn’t let go, as if he stopped touching Tim he would disappear. Tim didn’t mind that much though. “Areyoulivingokay? YouknowwealwayshavemoreroomattheToweryoucouldcomebackandlivewithusifyouwantedtoImean-“

Tim laughed. He hadn’t heard Bart speak that fast in so long, it was good to be back. “I’m good, Bart. But I’d love to come visit maybe.”

“You can always come. Always.” Cassie promised.

“How have you guys been? Save the world much?”

Conner shook his head. “We want to hear about you. How long have you been back? Why are you here? How-?”

“What’s on your back?” Bart interrupted. “And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Tim looked down at his clothes; he had forgotten that his chest was bare. He didn’t wear a shirt because Alfred wanted to make sure that he was healing well, and because of the frequency that his bandages had to be changed. While they had been talking he had almost forgotten about his pain, but now that he was once again aware of it it had gotten worse. He subtly took as deep of a breath as possible; he didn’t want them to know how much pain he was masking right now.

Bart let go of his hand for less than a second so he could move to get a better look at Tim’s back using his super speed. “What _happened_ to you?” He cried. He instantly began checking Tim for other injuries. Conner and Cassie both moved so that they could see his back before having similar reactions.

“So, I may have been blow up a little.” Tim explained meekly.

“You were _what_?” Cassie stood and stomped over to where Damian sat (Tim had almost forgotten that he was there). “ _You_ said he was safe here! _You_ said that he was fine! What did you _do_?”

“Cassie, they didn’t do anything to me!” Tim said. Damian wouldn’t look her in the eye. She scowled but didn’t attack instead, she went back to sit down next to Tim. “It was the Riddler’s fault, really, I’m fine. Just a little banged up.” Tim promised. Cassie still didn’t look happy.

“You look so much _older_.” Kon mumbled. “Your voice is lower, your hair is longer-“

“Idon’tlikeit.” Bart input.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Do you remember your old hairstyle?”

“I shaved it!”

Tim laughed remembering the fiasco where his friend, in a bout of impulsiveness (what else was new), had indeed shaved his wild hair, and the rest of his head. To make is not seem suspicious that both Kid Flash and Bart Allen had shaved their heads he was required to wear a wig while he was Bart until it grew back to an inconspicuous length.

No one spoke for a minute and Tim glanced at the silent Titans around them. “So… why aren’t _they_ speaking?” He asked.

Conner glared at the elder heroes. “They aren’t allowed to talk.” He said.

“… Why?”

“They decided to keep your living a secret from us, they also wanted to observe us, make sure we didn’t… I don’t know, hurt you or something, we said that they weren’t allowed to talk.” Cassie explained.

Oh, no. Tim didn’t respond, but he looked at Damian. He saw how Damian glanced at the three Titans then at him, warily. They weren’t here to protect Tim from them, they were here to protect them from Tim. He was worried that Tim would, what? Bring them to the dark side? Was he worried that Tim was a sleeper agent of Ra’s? No, then he wouldn’t be trying to protect Tim from the League of Assassins.

“Tim? You okay?” Conner asked, nudging Tim.

Tim blinked. “Sorry, what?” He saw his friends’ worried faces and put on a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just zoned out for a second.”

Cassie began telling him a story about something that had happened with her friend Cissie (one of the Green Arrow’s old co-workers who had retired to become an Olympic Archer). Afterwards Conner mentioned an off-world mission he’d had with Superman and soon Tim’s friends were telling him about everything he’d missed in the past six years, some of which Tim knew (be it from searching the internet after he escaped the League or from newspapers that Talia and Ra’s so graciously supplied him while under their care), some of which he didn’t.

Tim laughed when he was supposed to, gasped when appropriate, was sympathetic. He watched as his friends’ eyes lit up, appreciating his reactions to their stories and continued talking. Tim liked when they talked, he liked when he didn’t have to hear himself. Plus, he didn’t really want to tell them what he’d been doing the past few years. He didn’t want them to worry. He didn’t want them to know.

“Why don’t you come back with us?” Cassie asked at one point.

Tim shook his head, ducking it to hide his flush. “I have things to do here.”

“It’ll just be for a little while- just until you’re healed.” Tim glanced at Damian whose mouth had formed a firm line.

“Nah, it’s okay. But I promise, as soon as I’m free I’ll come visit.” Tim lied. The truth was he’d probably never get that far, either he’d die trying (or succeeding) to kill the Joker, or he’d be put in jail.

And his friends wouldn’t want anything to do with him.

There was a gentle knock on the door which interrupted Bart who zipped over to open it. Alfred stood at the other side. “Apologies Masters, but Doctor Thompkins is here. Shall I ask her to wait?”

Tim looked at Damian who stood, staring at his adoptive brother. Tim didn’t want to go, he really didn’t. But he knew that look on Damian’s face, Damian wanted him to swiftly exit the conversation and kick his friends out.

“Who’s Doctor Thompkins?” Bart asked.

“Just someone here to help Timothy.” Alfred responded. So they didn’t want his friends to know… they were asking him in their subtle way to comply.

“Um, I better go.”

“We’ll wait.” Cassie insisted.

“No, it’ll take a while.” Tim said quickly. “But you can always come back to visit.” Tim looked at Alfred who nodded in confirmation.

“Absolutely, Miss Sandsmark.”

Cassie gave Tim a pleading look but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. He didn’t want them here for this. “It’ll be fine. I’ll see you guys another day, okay?”

Bart ran back to Tim, hugging him tightly, putting pressure on his wounds but Tim ignored the pain. “Imgonnamissyousomuch.”

“Bart, you can see me tomorrow.”

“But that’s so far from now!”

Cassie pushed Bart out of the way and hugged Tim as well, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I’ll see you later.”

Next was Conner’s turn. The man brushed Tim’s hair out of his face before hugging him as well. “Later.” The clone promised.

“Master Timothy, if you’d come with me.” Tim nodded, sparing his friends one last glance he walked out of the room.

* * *

“Hello Tim.” Leslie Thompkins greeted. Tim had been led from the training room his friends had been in to the living room upstairs in the Manor. Tim was actually surprised that Bruce had let them meet up here. Between Leslie and the chair that had been set up for Tim was a small coffee table with a pot of water and two tea cups. Huh, so they trusted him with a potential weapon (or they knew he wouldn’t _dare_ break Alfred’s good china).

Tim sat down. Leslie Thompkins crossed her legs. “Hello Doctor.”

Lee waited until Alfred had left and then she began speaking. “Would you like to tell me why you think you’re here?” She asked.

“Bruce thinks I can change. He thinks I can see error in my ways.” Lee stayed silent, waiting for Tim to elaborate. “He thinks that I can join him again, that if the right people talk to me I’ll eventually not want to kill the Joker.”

“What do you think will happen when he believes that?” She asked.

“He’ll let me go.”

“Then why haven’t you lied to him so he’ll let you go?”

“I hadn’t thought of it.” Tim lied.

“You. Tim Drake, the world’s second greatest detective didn’t think of lying?” Tim didn’t respond. “I get it. You don’t want to be here, you want to be somewhere else fulfilling this… desire. Killing the Joker. But you didn’t lie to get to your goal. You don’t think that maybe this is your subconscious telling you something? You could have let Jason die. You didn’t have to save him, didn’t have to be stuck here, didn’t have to save those people.”

“You’re saying you… _want_ me to be a bad guy?” Tim asked incredulously. “You want me to kill people? You want me to let innocent people suffer?”

“Well why should they be saved? You weren’t.”

Tim swallowed, eyes narrowing. “They aren’t to blame for me dying.”

“The Joker is.”

“Yes.”

“And therefore he must die.”

“No.”

Leslie cocked her head to the side. “I’m confused. Then why do you want to kill the Joker?”

“I want to kill the Joker so he can never do this again. The rest of Bruce’s rogues gallery—they can reform. They _won’t_ but they can. They don’t deserve to die, not like the Joker does. The Joker and Bruce play this… game. This game that either ends where Bruce gets hurt and the Joker gets away, the Joker gets sent back to Arkham only to break out again, or someone Bruce cares about gets hurt. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. And I understand why Bruce won’t do it. And that’s _fine_. But we aren’t all like Bruce, for some of us we don’t open a one way door. Some of us can come back over the line.”

“By ‘some of us’ you’re referring to yourself?”

“Who else?”

“Tim, why didn’t you come to Bruce? Why didn’t you go to your friends? To Stephanie? You know you’re not alone.”

“They wouldn’t help. They’re like Bruce. They can’t help.”

“Or maybe you just don’t want them to. Because if they do they’ve become just like criminals. Maybe because you will become one, too.”

“This is my fight, and after this… Bruce can do whatever he wants with me. Send me to Arkham. Throw me in Blackgate. I don’t care. But I won’t drag them down with me. That doesn’t mean I’m going to just start killing everyone I don’t like… just him. I just—I can’t let him live.” Leslie just looked at him. “Look, I know none of you understand and-that’s-that’s okay. That’s fine. I don’t expect you to.” Tim rubbed his face. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Alright. What _do_ you want to talk about?”

Tim shook his head.

“That’s okay,” Leslie said gently. “We can wait until you know.” She offered. The rest of the session was silence.

* * *

Tim woke up when heard the footsteps, funny this being-held-captive-in-a-cage-so-he-didn’t-kill-the-Joker had resulted in the most sleep he’d gotten since he’d been dead. He didn’t move. By the sound of it it was two people, Alfred was probably one of them. Alfred came by to see Tim a lot. It felt like his friends yesterday had been a dream, must have been a dream. They hadn’t called since—not that Tim expected them to put their lives on hold for him.

“He’s asleep.” Kon whispered. “Maybe-maybe I should go.”

“He is not asleep, Young Mister Kent. He is, as you young ones say, faking it. Master Tim, please open your eyes, your friend is here.”

Sometimes Tim disliked Alfred. Tim opened his eyes, slowly rising. Conner’s face lit up, a smile flickered over his face. He stood on the other side of the glass in civvies, a tin in his hands. That wasn’t… Ma’s pie, was it? “Hi.” Conner breathed.

“Hi. What’re you…?” Tim’s eyes never left the tin in his hands.

“Stand back, Master Timothy.” Alfred warned. Tim nodded and stood back as he unlocked the door. Conner looked confused, glancing between the two of them, before he ran into the room. Alfred locked the door behind him. Conner immediately hugged his friend.

“Hey! How are you?”

“I’m, um, I’m fine. Is… is that what I think it is?” Tim asked, pointing to the tin.

Kon snorted. “Should have known that you would care more about Ma’s pie than me.”

“So… it _is_ one of Ma’s pies?”

Kon laughed and took a fork from his jeans pocket and handed it to Tim. “I told Ma. About you. And she wasn’t that surprised. Weirdly. Said it happened to someone Clark knew like, at least once a month.”

Tim was too busy stuffing his face with pie to respond. “Mmmshruf.” He said in agreement. He and Conner sat on the floor of his cell and while Tim ate, Kon talked. Tim had a sudden blast of déjà vu, this scene, this place, him and Kon, sitting on the floor while Kon talked.

They’d done similar things like this before, Tim remembered, every other week or so. Tim would be working, whether it was at the Tower, at the Manor, in the Cave or (for a short time when his parents were alive) in his old room. Conner would come, he would bring pie and play video games with a play-by-play commentary on whatever he wanted to talk about. Sometimes it was school, or missions, or “hey did you see how frickin’ dope it was when Cassie punched Despero? Like _damn_.”

“So?” Conner asked. “Why are you in a zoo cage?”

Tim stopped eating for a second. “A… _zoo_ cage?”

“Yeah. Like the lions or the water animals? You go to a zoo and they have this glass wall between you and them that has real walls on other sides. Like this place.”

“It was supposed to be a cell. Originally, Damian and Bruce… they didn’t know who I was. So when I was recovering from the bomb, in the beginning, they wanted me in here. I guess, they keep it that way now because they just find me… dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What the fuck, man? What is _wrong_ with your family?”

“I dunno, man. I don’t know.”

“I’m going to speak with them-“

“No!” Tim interrupted.

Conner shot him a confused look. “They _locked_ you up in here! With like, a _passcode_ and everything! And you’re… _okay_ with that?”

“No, but that’s not the point.”

“Then _what_ is?”

“ _They_ need to feel safe. And, I don’t know if I can help him in my current condition.”

“Help? Help who?” Tim ate a piece of pie instead of answering. “Tim. Don’t shut me out. Who are you trying to help?”

“Bruce is in trouble, and no one believes me. They think I’m just… I don’t know. Making an excuse.”

“For what?”

Tim couldn’t tell him. He’d never believe him. He’d never help him. He’d think he was crazy. “Doesn’t matter.”

“ _Tim_.”

“I want… the Joker gone.”

“Just gone? _I_ want him _dead_.”

“You… _what_?” Now Tim was confused.

“I want him dead. He, he _killed_ you Tim. He doesn’t deserve—he’s hurt so many people.”

“Heroes don’t kill.” Tim echoed Bruce.

Conner glanced downward. “Clark says the same thing.”

“I bet Diana and Barry do too.”

Kon leaned back on his hands. “You’re really going to town on that pie, aren’t you?”

Tim looked up innocently at his friend. “It’s yummy.”

Kon burst out laughing and Tim grinned at his friend. “So how’s Ma?” Tim asked.

“She’s good. She and Pa need more help on the farm though, so Jon’s thinking about coming back home for a while.”

“No way! I can’t imagine Ma and Pa asking for help around the farm!”

“Oh, they didn’t ask. They specifically called Jon and told him _not_ to come, but you know Jon.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, they’ve really gotten the hang of the wifi you set up for them. Pa’s getting into Netflix.”

“ _Really_?”

“Yeah. I mean, Ma still uses that grainy black and white to watch the news while she cooks, but Pa sometimes watches a few documentaries after being in the field. He falls asleep halfway through usually, but he still watches them.”

“And I was worried it would be of no use to them.”

“Well, it wasn’t. For a long time, but…” Kon took a shaky breath. Tim hated that he’d caused that pain on Kon’s face. _No_ , a small part of his mind argued, _you didn’t cause anything. And you know that. And you know what you have to do because of it._ “Anyway, Pa remembered how excited you’d been when you set it up for them, and how he promised to use it but never did and… he wanted it to be a reminder, you know?”

“Tell Pa that what he did means a lot to me.”

“I will.” Kon promised. While Tim ate every last morsel in the bottom of that pie tin Kon watched him.

“What?” Tim asked when he was finished, licking the last molecules of pie off of the fork in his hand.

“I’ve missed you a lot.” Kon said with a softness that wasn’t at all sad, but happy, with maybe a hint of reverence. The thought that Kon could ever see him in reverence made Tim want to laugh. But the way that Kon smiled lightly, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way his cheeks puffed out a little when he really smiled, that was true happiness, without a doubt.

Tim grinned at him.

* * *

Tim was being woken up again, but this time is was by something different. Was-was that a tapping sound? It was annoyingly persistent. Why would someone be tapping without stop? Just to wake him up? Oooh this _reeked_ of Damian.

That little-

Wait.

That was morse code.

Tim pressed his ear to the wall at the back of his cell which held up his cot. That was weird. If he remembered the blueprints of the Batcave correctly, the area where his cell was had been carved out of the mountain which Wayne Manor sat on… there shouldn’t have been anything but rock on the other side of here.

The message was being repeated over and over. _shhshh-thump-thump-thump seven unit pause thump-thump-thump-thump-shhshh seven unit pause thump-shhshh-thump pause thump-thump-thump one unit pause shhshh-thump-thump-thump_ Crap he got that wrong. The first word was _thump-thump-thump_ and _shhshh-thump-thump-thump_ not _shhshh-thump-thump-thump_.

Now what were those letters again? Tim strained to remember, the last time he had used morse code had been when he was bored and had been teaching it to the Titans for in case of emergency.

 _Thump-thump-thump_ was supposed to be dot-dot-dot, which was… S!

Next letter: _shhshh-thump-thump-thump_ , dash-dot-dot-dot—B!

Wait. SB?

_Kon._

The other two letters were easier to remember once he figured out it was Kon who was trying to communicate with him. He’d taught the team certain initials which would be their name signals, and then he taught them how to contact a specific person. The number four and then the other person’s name signal.

So Tim rubbed back against the wall as hard as he could: _thump-thump-shhshh-shhshh-thump-thump_ and awaited Kon’s answer.

U T-A-L-K

“Kon?” Tim whispered against the wall. “What are you doing here? How did you get to the other side of the wall? _Did you tunnel into the mountain_? Isn’t this a little much? You could have just calle-“

Kon was tapping something back out on the wall.

S-T-A-N-D B-A-C-K

Stand back?

There was a rumbling sound and Tim’s eyes widened as he jumped off of his bed, scrambling to the other side of the cell. He covered his head, curling up into a ball.

The wall burst as a hand punched through it, then ripped the wall apart. Soon Tim was huddled, protected from some of the dust and grime by his position, in a room with a very large new door. Tim slowly straightened watching as not just Kon but Bart and Cassie walked into his cell from the very opposite of where the door was supposed to be.

“What are you guys doing here? Alfred’s going to be so pissed when he sees that you broke open my cell. Did you tunnel all the way through the mountain? Why are you guys even here? Shouldn’t you be, like, I don’t know, _asleep_? How did you bypass the Manor’s security?”

Cassie hugged her friend tightly while Bart grinned and held out a handmade banner, CONGRATS ON YOUR NEWFOUND FREEDOM!

“Jesus, Tim. Shut up for once.” Kon said lightly.

Huh?

“What’s going on?” Tim asked warily, pulling away from Cassie. He looked at his friends’ grinning faces, the banner that Bart had apparently made, and the new gaping hole in his wall.

“Isn’t it obvious, Silly?” Bart asked, rolling his eyes. “We’re breaking you out!”


	8. Red Hood and the Outlaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what it says on the label

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by my lovely ususal
> 
> Okay.... so I might have fucked up last week and not posted "I'm Not Batman, I Have Friends" and I might not have fucked up but just now posted the chapter twice or none of the above... im confused. 
> 
> Anywho "I'm Not Batman, I Have Friends" was supposed to be last week's update (i missed one before that so technically it was 2 weeks ago's update... shhhh) but anyway this is this week's
> 
> also??? omg guys this is the second to last chappie of JOY! Do not fret, a sequel and some other snippets will be coming but maybe not for a while so.... yeah. 
> 
> anywho thank yall for staying with me for so long (not really that long but it feels like a long time) and yeah yall rock <3

“Are you guys _insane_?” Tim asked as Cassie flew while carrying him. Bart ran below them, Conner flew by Cassie’s side.

“If it’ll shut you up, then yes. Where’s your place?” Cassie asked.

“I missed my rent so they probably dropped my stuff. Which… is bad, my weapons and laptop were there. But seriously guys? Cass-can you put me down for a second?”

“Nope. The Bats probably already know, don’t want to give them the advantage.” Conner said cheerfully.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You’ve _met_ my family, right? This will do nothing. They’re going to go all out if you don’t put me back like, fifteen minutes ago.”

“Well then we’d better skedaddle.” Conner said.

Tim rolled his eyes. The last thing he expected was for Cassie to cry out before both of them began to plummet to the ground. Bart ran up a building and caught Tim in his arms, skidding across the roof. Conner swooped down to get Cassie before flying back up to the roof. Cassie mumbled something and pulled something out of her arm.

“Fu-fuck.” She garbled. “That do-es n-not look go-od.” She held up the dart looking at it with narrowed eyes, before she crumbled to the ground. Conner caught her and looked at Tim and Bart.

“Is that your family?” Kon asked.

Tim shook his head. He looked around, scanning the rooftops carefully. “No.”

He saw it. “ _Get down!_ ” He ducked, watching as the bullets whizzed over his head and embedded themselves into the edge of the roof. Kon frowned and curled around an unconscious Cassie, shielding her with his TTK.

“What _was_ that?” Bart cried.

“ _That_ was the League of Assassins. Get out of here.” Tim hissed.

“We’re not leaving you!”

Tim peeked out over the edge of the roof and did a quick scan. They were gone. _Shit_. Ra’s had finally caught up to him. “I _said_ go. I’ll deal with this.”

“ _No-_!”

“Tim Drake, time to come home.” Someone said. Tim whipped around. Two men and one woman, they all held guns and Tim could tell they had other weapons on their bodies. Huh. He recognized them.

“He _is_ home.” Kon snapped. “Who the hell are you?”

Pru grinned, taking out a gun. “We’re the bloody recovery team, much to our displeasure.”

“Don’t-“ Tim began.

“You’re hard to find, Red Hood. Master ain’t happy.”

“Well,” Kon growled, “your master can suck my-“

Conner was interrupted by Tim, who had seen Pru grab for her gun. It was like someone was controlling him, he just… _moved_. Tim grabbed the gun away from the assassin, bashing his elbow into Pru’s nose. Pru cried out, releasing the weapon to clutch her bleeding nose and Z and Owens went for their own guns. Tim didn’t prefer guns, but since his time back he’d learned how to use them. Instinctively he raised his gun and shot at the assassins. The trio dove out of the way of the wave of bullets that Tim let loose.

Bart began to run and Owens shot after him, nearly hitting multiple times. Caught up in dodging the projectiles Bart was unable to help Tim when Z attacked. Kon tried but Pru took out a blade, one hand covering her gushing nose, and Kon let his aura rise. Pru cut through it with her knife narrowly missing Kon’s skin as he stumbled backwards from the surprise of the assassin bypassing his TTK. Crap, that meant that the knife was magic. Kon would actually have to fight and he would have to protect a still unconscious Cassie.

Tim was on his own against Z. Tim disarmed the gun in his hand mechanically, dodging Z’s spray of bullets. Tim kicked Z’s legs out from under him and wrestled the gun away from him, hands doing things that Tim couldn’t stop them from doing. They disassembled Z’s weapon and Tim hissed as Z stuck a knife into Tim’s arm. Tim stumbled away from the assassin and wrenched the blade from his arm. Somewhere in Tim’s mind the pain from his back and the pain from his cut mingled until he wasn’t sure which was which, just that he was in pain. Well, what else was new?

Tim ignored the pain. He ignored the blood that dripped down his arm in a steady stream. He ignored his friends fighting besides him. He just fought. This fight between him and Z, all the while Z was pleading with him, telling him that Z would win, that Tim knew that, that if Tim just surrendered then Z could take him back to the Master. The Master would be forgiving for Tim’s insolence when he ran away. Tim blocked out the words, blocked out sounds and just fought. He didn’t fight as well as Bruce, he didn’t fight as well as Damian, he didn’t fight as well as Ra’s. He couldn’t be one of them, not here, not now. No, he had to be all of them. He had to be _better_.

Tim noticed when he speared Z through the chest, somewhere in the darkest reaches of his mind he noticed and he tried to stop himself. Z fell to the ground, a shocked look on his face. Tim tried to stop, he tried to hurt or maim but that part of him, that part that Tim thought Ra’s must have awakened somehow, it drove him to his next victim. With a swift slash of his knife he cut through Owen’s neck, blood spurting over his face. Bart sat in defensive position on the roof, eyes wide, mouth open. Owens’s blood burst from him as his corpse fell to the ground with a _thud_. Tim then was going at Pru, he didn’t even know he was doing it.

The British killer shouted profanities, as she tried to avoid Tim’s attacks. Conner was much in the same position as Bart, all he could do was watch as his best friend murdered two people, working on his third. Pru cursed Tim and she cursed Ra’s for training him this way and all the while Tim couldn’t understand what he was doing, and why he couldn’t stop. Tim backed the woman up to the edge of the roof and with one last lunge Pru was shoved off of the building. Tim heard the _splat_ , looking over to make sure she’d died was unnecessary.

Tim stood at the edge of that roof, chest heaving. His body locked into that position and all he saw was red. For what seemed like forever he thought he was trapped in his own body, unable to make himself feel grief or remorse ( _they were trying to kill you they would have killed you friends_ but this was… wrong this was all _wrong_!), he couldn’t even make himself put that goddamned knife down.

“Tim?” Bart asked, breaking whatever spell Tim felt like he had been under. A flood of sensation, a flood of feeling. Tim dropped the knife like it was diseased (it was he was sure it was) and wiped Owens’s blood from his eyes and mouth. “Tim, are you okay?”

Tim shook his head. He really wasn’t.

He looked at the bodies around him. Z, Owens, and… these people. They’d worked with him during his time with the League. They’d fought back to back. Tim had just killed them and he didn’t feel right. He just didn’t. _They were trying to kill you_. His right arm (the one that Z had stabbed) felt like lead. It fell limp at his side and he bit back the pain that coursed through his body.

He bent down next to Z, searching his body.

“Tim, Tim man what just _happened_?” Conner asked, handing Cassie to Bart who propped her up against his side.

He needed- He needed to find it. His hands ran down Z’s corpse checking for any hidden pockets. Here! Tim pulled out a small vial and tossed it to Bart. “Smelling salts.” He told the speedster, nodding to their Amazonian friend. Bart immediately waved the vial under Cassie’s nose and Cassie took a second to slowly get her bearings.

“What the hell happened here?” She asked.

Bart nodded to his other two friends, the ex-dead one of the two still bent down by the black-skinned corpse. “Tim happened.”

“What the fuck was that, Tim? Are you just going to ignore me after massacring three people?” Kon cried.

Tim should have told them. They never would have broken him out if they’d known. This was Tim’s fault, all his fault (it always was). “I’ll explain later.” Tim told Kon, coming up with the object of his body search of Z.

He held the small microphone to his mouth. “Gotham is off limits. _I_ am off limits. Let me go.” He dropped the microphone and crushed it beneath his bare foot.

Tim turned to his three friends. Each of them clearly concerned though he could tell, no matter how hard they tried to hide it, they were horrified too. “I have a lot to tell you.”

* * *

“I have a lot to tell you.” Batman told his co-workers. Superman, Wonder Woman, and the Flash stood in the Batcave, each as clueless about the intentions behind the sentence as the next. The original crew Teen Titans stood by Batman and his protégées. Oracle sat at the computer, and Nightwing leaned against the dashboard.

“You… might want to sit down.” Robin suggested.

That was… concerning.

“What’s going on Batsy?” The Flash asked. Batman turned to Oracle and nodded to her. She typed something into the computer and pulled up a blurry picture of a man in a jacket and a red helmet.

Superman cocked an eyebrow. “So?”

“He calls himself the Red Hood.” Batman explained. “He showed up a few days ago as a vigilante. At least that’s what he seemed to be.”

“Is it just me or does anyone else find it ironic that the city with the most vigilantes has a self-professed Anti-Social Head Vigilante?” The Flash asked. Batman narrowed his eyes and Flash shut his mouth.

“Recently the Riddler was causing mayhem in downtown Gotham, when we arrived to apprehend him the Red Hood was there. In the midst of battle a bomb went off, the Red Hood had curled himself around Robin, probably saving his life, however he caused harm to himself so after the Riddler was subdued we brought him here to be operated on in private.”

“Is… there a point to this story?” Wonder Woman asked.

Batman glared at her but continued. “When he first appeared we did not know his identity. Now we do.” He nodded to Oracle again. She pulled up the DNA test and waited for the three other heroes’ responses.

“Seriously?” Superman asked after a pause for the trio to process.

“How?” Flash cried.

“Great Hera…”

“Which brings us to the reason you three are here,” Batman continued, “we found out who had brought him back. Ra’s Al Ghul, and he sent some of his assassins after the Red Hood in the wake of… what we assume is his escape.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

Batman looked at Nightwing who tensed. “We felt it appropriate to tell Timothy’s friends. Your own sidekicks.” The ex-Robin said.

The Flash’s face fell. “You didn’t…” He whispered.

“Are you in _sane_?” Superman cried. “You told _them_ before _us_?”

“We see now that that was a mistake.” Batman agreed.

“Mistake? Bruce you _have_ met our charges, right? Bruce, are you _fucking_ insane? What did they _do_?” It was weird to hear Superman swear.

“Come see for yourself.” Nightwing invited. He led the three heroes to the cell window where a new gaping hole had appeared in the opposite wall.

“What-what is this?” Wonder Woman asked.

“This is Tim’s old recovery chamber.”

“You locked your not-dead _kid in a cell_?” Superman breathed, horrified.

“The current problem is the large hole which your protégées created.” Batman insisted.

“Yeah. Sure.” Superman glared at Batman with a look that said ‘we’ll talk about that later.’

Flash leaned heavily back against the wall behind him. Eyes wide behind a mask. “Oh my god. Bart’s all on his own.” He glanced at the others. “I mean, he’s not but you guys have met Bart. Him? And… Tim? He’ll do anything Tim’ll tell him to do, and by the look of it you’re not very excited about him coming back. And _assassins_?” Flash rubbed his hands over his mask.

“We are all worried for our charges, Flash, I am sure Cassandra will take care of Bartholomew.”

“Oh _Rao_.” Superman whispered. “Conner.”

Flamebird’s eyes widened and he was at his father’s side, hand on his back. “Dad, he’ll be okay. It won’t be like last time.”

“Last time…?” Batman asked.

Flamebird shot the Caped Crusader a glare. “Like you care.”

“Jon…” Nightwing tried.

Superman looked like he was going to cry, so Flamebird enlightened the Batman. “Superboy didn’t take Robin’s death well. None of his friends did, but for Kon it was… bad.”

“It was bad for all of them.” Batman said softly. “All of us. But now, with them in Gotham, I need your help. We know Timothy’s new plan, we know what he wants to do. We need your help. And if Tim’s plan goes through you might want to be first on the ground, you’ll want to convince them to make a plea bargain.”

“Plea bargain? Bats, what is Tim _planning_?”

Batman grimaced.

* * *

Selina wondered when the warmth would come. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the Gotham cold, it was impossible not to, but a little warmth on these chilly nights would be nice. She ran her fingers over the small envelope in her hands. The Batlight shown in the sky. It was almost a fixed structure there despite the Batman not even being in the city at times. But he was here tonight.

And he wasn’t alone.

“Miss Kyle.” The Batman greeted. Selina smiled and turned around. Wonder Woman, The Flash, Superman, and all of his little birds.

“I do wish you wouldn’t use my real name near strangers, dear.”

She could tell the other Justice League heroes were uncomfortable with her, though the kids seemed used to the flirtation. “Catwoman, why have you called me?”

Selina looked down at the letter between her hands. She handed it over to the Batman. “This was sent to me. I won’t be going, not my style, but I still received an invitation. I thought you should know.”

Batman looked at the envelope before opening it to read the message inside. “So, why the reunion?” she asked.

“Family business.” Nightwing said.

“You know, I haven’t seen the Red Hood on the street recently… Is that because of you?”

“Yes.”

“So you know.” She stated.

Batman looked up at that. “You know?”

“I’ve known for a while, Batman. He-he came to me. He said something like this might happen. He said you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

“He was friends with Superboy, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl. Right?”

No one responded.

Batman’s face barely even twitched when he finished the letter. “Thank you for this, Selina.”

“Anytime, love. But next time? Don’t bring your friends and we’ll have some fun.” She winked at Batman and she heard a muffled laugh from the Flash.

Batman smirked. She loved that smirk, it only appeared every so often but when it did… “See you later, Selina.”

Selina blew him a kiss and then jumped off the roof, feeling the Gotham cold rake her skin. What she wouldn’t give for it to be warm again.

* * *

“Listen, we aren’t going to hurt you.” Tim said softly. Tamara Fox continued to stare wide-eyed at her new house-guests. Then she screamed. Bart was on her in a second, securing his hand over her mouth.

“Tamara, _Tam_! We aren’t going to hurt you!” Tim hissed when the muffled screaming stopped. “Kid Flash will let go of your mouth if you won’t scream, okay? We just need to crash here tonight.” Tamara said something which was obscured by Bart’s hand. Tim nodded and Bart dropped his hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” She asked petulantly.

“Excuse me?”

“I’d recognize that face anywhere, you’re Tim Drake.”

She was the first person to have recognized him. “You… _what_?”

“I mean, you’re clearly older and your voice is deeper, but you’re clearly Tim Drake. You have the same eyes and way of moving… I should know, videos and pictures of you are almost all that’s used for stock photos around Wayne Enterprises. That motivational video you were in to promote work proficiency? On repeat in Dad’s labs.”

Tim felt his face heat. “That’s still used?”

“Yeah. Your voice cracks in it,” he heard Kon snort behind him, “sometimes Bruce Wayne just stands in front of it and watches it. So why are you alive again? With… um, superheroes and breaking into my house?”

“Uh…” Tim didn’t really know what to say.

Tamara raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “ _Well_ …?”

“It’s a long story, Tam. But it’ll all be over soon, okay?”

“Tim-“ Bart interrupted. Cassie hit him for using Tim’s real name and he looked at her sheepishly. “What? She already knows.”

“Am I the only one fazed by the fact that Tim Drake is both alive and for some reason friends with Wonder Girl, Kid Flash, and Superboy?” Tam asked insistently.

“We’ve been over it already. Like Tim said, long story. But right now we have something to do, we’ll be gone by tomorrow.” Cassie explained.

“Again, really sorry about this.” Tim apologized.

Tam frowned but wiggled herself out of Bart’s grasp. She walked over to her kitchen and took out a glass from the cabinet. She filled it with water from the tap and watched the four vigilantes carefully. “What do you need?” She finally asked.

Tim was never more grateful for Tam than then. For a moment everything seemed almost more than perfect. He was alive. He was with his friends. He had help and people who _wanted_ to help him and best of all he was going to finish what he wanted to do. What he had to do. Everything would soon be right. Soon be perfect.

“Well I’m starving!” Moment over.

Not that he could blame Bart, the poor kid probably hadn’t eaten in an hour.

Tam smiled. “Sure, food’s in the-“ there was a _whoosh_ and in a second all of Tam’s drawers and cabinets were open and Bart had made a sandwich definitely too big for his mouth, “-pantry.” Tam’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the remains of her kitchen and the speedster on the floor stuffing his mouth with sandwich.

“Does… um, does he do that often?” Tam asked.

The other three vigilantes nodded.

“Good thing you’re only staying one night. Otherwise I’ll be broke. What about the rest of you? Do you guys need anything?”

“No, thank you Tam.” Tim declined. Conner and Cassie did too.

Cassie gave Tim a meaningful look. “Besides, we need to talk.” She added.

Tam shrugged. “Me casa es su casa, I guess. You can use the bedroom if you need privacy.”

Tim, Cassie, and Conner moved to Tam’s bedroom. Bart glanced up as the three left the room and dashed over, bringing his food with him. He sat on Tam’s bed and munched cheerfully.

“So what’s the game plan, Tim?” Conner asked.

Tim rubbed his hands together and began to pace. He hadn’t really thought about it before. By looking at his friends’ faces it was clear they hadn’t either. They’d broken him out of his cell with no plan, because they believed he had one. They always knew he had a plan. Now he had to figure one out, quickly. He didn’t have any equipment anymore, he had been stripped of it when Alfred operated on him. He needed weapons, he couldn’t get any good guns on this short notice but he could always use a staff. Staffs were his better weapon anyway. He needed some type of costume too. He couldn’t work on building anything, didn’t have the time. No, he needed something he could throw on and use. A sweatshirt maybe… he looked down at his clothes.

And pants. Real pants would be nice too.

“ _Tim_?” Cassie asked.

“Huh?” Tim asked, breaking from his thoughts.

“What’s next?”

“Next we get me some clothes and some Advil. And after that, we kill the Joker.”

* * *

“You can turn back, at any time, at any moment.” Batman told his partners. “If it gets too dangerous, Robin, I want you to go back to the Cave.”

“Nah.” Robin said. “What good would a Robin be if he listened to Batman?” Batman glared at his partner and Batgirl nudged him fondly.

“He has a point.” She said.

Batman turned to Wonder Woman. “At least your protégé respects your decisions.”

“Batman, if she did we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“ _Yeah B, chill a little_.” Oracle said from the comms.

If Batman could glare at Oracle he would have. It was odd to Clark, the way that Batman seemed so angry when he clearly wasn’t. He loved banter with his kids, and he cherished working with them. Even if he never said it himself. Clark missed that. And Clark worried.

Tim had been Kon’s best friend. They’d always talked, they’d had sleepovers. Ma had made him pie. He’d slept on Clark’s extra mattress and the two of them had huddled together on his couch. They’d had popcorn fights and had left empty soda bottles on his floor. Clark had come home to his Metropolis apartment to see a cheesy horror flick burning on his TV screen and two teenagers curled up together on his couch. Kon had been drooling.

Kon used to listen for his heartbeat.

One night, at his grave Kon had talked to Clark about it. He told Clark how he would always listen to Tim’s heartbeat when they were in battle. The simple sound was very calming. It was pleasing.

Kon had missed Tim’s heartbeat disappearing. He hadn’t even known to worry.

Kon blamed himself for Tim’s death.

Clark worried about him. He knew Kon would die for Tim, he wondered if Tim knew that too.

Speaking of heartbeats to listen to, Clark tuned into Bruce’s. It beat like a hummingbird, feather light and fast. He checked the others, Barry’s was similar to Bruce but it was heavier like footsteps trampling down a hall. Then there was Diana, strong and steady just like her. Jon, his beautiful son Jon who’s heart beat with worry, with adrenaline. He shifted over to Lois who was safe in her apartment in Metropolis, she should be asleep but she wasn’t. Her heart beat with the hint caffeine. Lana was sleeping like a normal person. Pete was… oh. _Oh_. Clark quickly changed subjects, that was something he didn’t want to hear. He listened to Jimmy, who was also sleeping.

Wait a second… Ma and Pa sounded like…

_Clark_.

_Clark please come back,_

_Something’s happened. A spaceship._

_Clark_ hurry _!_

“I have to go.” Clark said abruptly. Batman looked at his friend quizzically. Or as quizzically as Bruce ever looked with the cowl.

“Is everything… alright, Superman?”

“N-no I have to go.” Ma and Pa were begging for him.

“What, there’s something more important that saving _Kon_?” Flamebird cried.

“Right now, yes. I-I have to go. Jon, take care of Kon for me, _please_. I- _please_.” Clark whispered. Jon nodded slowly, angrily. He’d explain to Jon later. Jon would understand. Clark took off. Hopefully everything would go well.

Clark closed his eyes, he didn’t need them to fly back to Smallville he could fly home on instinct, and he listened, as Kon used to so often, for Tim’s heartbeat.

* * *

 

“Red looks good on you.” Conner said as he helped Tim put a numbing ointment on his back. Tim was staring at the red sweatshirt that Tam had managed to acquire when they asked her to go out and get him pants and a shirt. It was soft and the sensation felt nice against his hands. It was plain red which was good because if they failed they would need to hide and be unidentifiable.

Tim grinned, then winced from the cold substance. Conner applied it more gently. “It’s our colors.” He said.

“Huh?” Kon asked confused.

“Red and black.” Tim said, rubbing a hand over the (black) pants that Tamara had bought for him. “Our colors.”

“You wore gold, black, and green last time we worked together.”

“Yeah, but I always liked the red.” Red Hood. Kon didn’t respond. His large hands kneaded carefully into Tim’s back. “So can they be our colors?”

“Yeah.” He could hear the Kryptonian’s smile. “Of course.”

Callused hands on a marred back. Soft like snow and warm like smile. Tim closed his eyes, cold gel clung to his back. He felt comfortable. He felt safe. For the first time in a long while he felt safe.

And it would all end. All of it. Again.

Well there went the mood.

“I missed you, you know.”

“I know.”

“A lot. I thought-“ There was a shudder of breath and Kon’s hands stopped moving. “-you don’t know what it was like, Tim. Going to your funeral. Missing your death because,” he choked on a sob, “because I didn’t check in on you.”

Tim turned around to see tears dripping down his friend’s face. Tim touched Kon’s tanned cheek, swiping the droplets away. “Hey. It’s not your fault. It was _never_ your fault.”

Kon wept silently, eyes open and full of tears. “It is.” He whispered.

“You. Couldn’t. Have. Known.” Tim told him. “ _You couldn’t have. I_ didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Kon. I really am.”

“Tim, do you know what it’s _like_? To have your best friend die? To leave you alone? Tim, do you know what I tried to _do_?”

“No.” But he could imagine. Tim didn’t know what _he_ would have done if it had been Kon who had died.

Kon shook his head, pulling away from Tim. He rubbed at his slightly red eyes. “C’mon turn around, we have places to be.” He mumbled.

“Do-do you want to talk about this?”

“I’m fine, Tim.”

Clearly he wasn’t, but Tim didn’t want to push. So he turned back around and let Kon finish numbing the pain in his back. When he was done Tim pulled on the sweatshirt and pulled up the hood.

The two of them walked back into the main room and Tam handed Tim his weapon—a bo staff she’d found in a BatStash of weapons at a Wayne Enterprises facility. He swung it a few times, it was too light for his taste, but it would do.

“So what now?” Bart asked.

“Depends, did you get what I asked for?” Tim responded.

Bart nodded and handed the dark domino mask to him. “Theshortchickwhogaveittometoldmetothankyouagain. Saidthatifyouwantedtobuytwoyoumustreallybeafan. Guess she doesn’t knowhuh?”

Tim grinned and put it on his face. He turned to his friends with a flourish (thank god for Advil and numbing cream, his pain was blissfully subdued). “How do I look?”

Cassie raised an eyebrow. “Like the Red Hood actually makes sense as a name now.”

“Yeah, dude.” Kon said with a soft smile, all tears forgotten. “A helmet is not a hood.”

“It was supposed to be _ironic_.” Tim said, rolling his eyes behind white lenses.

“Well it _was_ stupid.”

Tim narrowed his eyes at his friends who froze. Including Bart. “What?” He asked startled.

“You,” Cassie looked at Bart who finished the sentence for her.

“You looked like you used to. With,” he waved at his own face, “the mask and everything.”

Oh.

“Well, let’s go kick some ass like we used to.” Tim said. His friends laughed and they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friendly reminder that it is not a plot hole but setup for the sequel okay i swear theres a point to probably what yall are confused about i swear


	9. I Saved The People He Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Guest Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I'M LATE OKAY BUT THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER FOR THIS STORY IN THE COLLECTION
> 
> THAT'S RIGHT THERES A COLLECTION IF YA COULDN'T TELL AND YEAH THERES GONNA BE A SEQUEL AND STUFF SO... 
> 
> YEAH
> 
> IGNORE ME

He smoothed his coarse hair back so that none of it stuck out from under his white wig. She handed him a dust roller, her high giggle giddy with happiness. Which, of course, wasn’t unusual. After all, the laugh was one of the most powerful reactions. He rolled the cleaner down his suit, green and purple. He liked those colors, however he had to admit Lex Luthor did tend to wear them better than he did. Ah, no matter. Soon they would be red, and red was such a _pretty_ color.

“Come, dear.” He told her. He took her lipstick and applied a coat to his already ruby lips. He smacked them loudly and checked himself once more in the mirror. He looked _fabulous_. He adjusted his yellow lapel daisy. “Bring me my robe, if you please.”

She traipsed over to him, flouncing, making a show of giving it to him. Despite his disgust for her stealing the show (show for whom? The two of them were all alone to change into the costumes for the real show) he laughed. He always laughed when she did anything. She was just _so damn funny_.

Looking.

_AHAHAHAHAHA_

But seriously. He took the robe from her and whipped it around him, watching it flow through the air in the mirror behind him. It settled over his back and he slipped his arms through his sleeves (he’d heard a joke about that once… what was it again? Was it a King or an Emperor?). He gave himself a winning showman’s smile and watched as his red lips stretched across his pale face. He looked amazing.

“Ready, Puddin?”

He flung the doors open, taking in the scene. The room was filled to the brim. A shiny bay window above the large auditorium he had cleared out, shadows danced up there. Good. Good. The villains stood, all cheering when he walked in. He couldn’t help himself. He bowed.

He walked up to the Bench, and she bounced up behind him, announcing to their enthusiastic audience. “ALL RISE, FOR THE DISHONORABLE CLOWN PRINCE OF CRIME!”

They rose and he pretended to blush. Waving them to sit down, and relax. There was a crash of broken glass from above them and there, in all his batty glory and with his friends behind him, stood the man all this ceremony had been prepared for. This would be _fun_.

“It’s _showtime_ ~”

* * *

 

Flamebird had been the one to break the window, he’d seen the Joker come out from the where the Judge’s Chambers were supposed to be and he lost it. The group of heroes had gone crashing to the ground in the middle of the courtroom. Unceremoniously they rose, all on guard. The Joker laughed and sang, “It’s _showtime._ ”

Damian and his group were about to attack, only to be stopped by a scream as Flamebird crumbled to the ground. NoBody dropped to her knees, surveying his pain before standing in front of him, hands in a guard position as if that would stop the Kryptonite poisoning which ailed him. She scanned the crowds of villains who surrounded them, looking for the space rock.

“You’re not gonna find anything, sweetheart.” Harley said. There was a blast of wind and the villains cried out as the Flash ran through them, looking for the offending rock. “We hid it pretty well!”

He skidded to a stop in front of Batman. “I don’t see it. We need to get Flamebird out of here.”

Batman nodded to NoBody. She grabbed Flamebird and the two of them disappeared so that she could get her friend to safety. “Don’t worry, heroes. Supey isn’t the only person we have a contingency plan for.”

Batman gave his co-workers the slightest of nods, and the courtroom burst into chaos.

Damian himself went for the biggest players: Clayface, Killer Croc, Scarecrow, and Solomon Grundy. Wonder Woman went for whoever was closer to her, the unlucky victims were Zsasz, Calendar Man, Firefly, Copperhead, Great White Shark, KGBeast. The Flash ran through all of them, lightning sparkling in his wake. He would hit them all once then go on to the next. Abuse and Zephyr fought together, usually Zephyr would stay back and do tech but since there was very little technology in this attack she was free to be out in the field. They fought as a team, taking on one or two at a time. Their attacks were fast and hard, neutralizing their enemies quickly but their progress was slow. Batgirl and Robin worked separately with their own fighting styles, fighting the way they did. Robin took on too many people at once in his haphazard way of fighting. Batgirl just fought, one at a time, two at a time, three at a time whoever was next she fought. Finally there was Batman, Batman went for the Joker himself.

He knocked Harley aside and the clown stumbled backwards. He reeled back his arm and growled. “Tough crowd today, who died?” The Joker asked with a grin. He ducked under the attack and threw something sticky and brown at Batman who caught it in his hand before dropping it because a burning sensation began to creep through his glove.

“Careful, Batsy!” Harley warned, readying her mallet-sized gavel. “It’s Judgment Day! Have ya been naughty or nice?”

Batman caught the rod of her gavel, the head of it an inch from his. “You’re mixing metaphors.”

“I’ll mix you, ya cowl-faced-!” She was caught off-guard by green vines suddenly yanking her away from Batman’s attack. “Leggo of me, Red!” She cried. She struggled against her flora-focused friend who threw a mist of something green and probably dangerous at the Bat.

Batman grimaced and stuffed a filter over his mouth and nose. “Oracle, unknown Poison Ivy toxin has been released.”

“ _You heard the man, heroes. Hold your breath or get rid of it_.” Oracle warned the others over comms.

“I’m on it!” The Flash called to the others but before he could, a yellow streak cut him off. It circled the gas and funneled it up and out of the broken skylight. It skidded to a stop and Kid Flash sighed.

“Aw, man! I _knew_ we’d be late!” He cried.

Superboy and Wonder Girl flew in and Superboy was about to say something witty when he doubled over in pain. Green to the gills, Wonder Girl caught him before he fell. “Get him out of here!” A voice snapped. Wonder Girl nodded, she didn’t need to be told twice, and she leapt from the ground.

 _Timothy_.

Cluemaster dove at the young man in the red who flicked the edge of his staff and the villain went crumbling to the ground. Oracle would probably be pissed that she missed it. Tim swung it again when Cluemaster tried to rise and hit him in the back of the head and back down he went.

Damian ducked under a flying villain and began moving towards Tim. He dodged the fights around him and took out his katana. Tim’s hand tightened around his staff. “Leave me alone, Nightwing.” Tim warned.

“The name seems more appropriate.”

“I know, actual hood now.” Tim took down said hood, and Damian’s heart almost stopped from seeing the old mask. “This is a replica. Realistic, though? Don’t you think?”

_Tim._

“Let me go by, D. You don’t want to see me angry.”

The truth? Damian was just glad that his brother _could_ be angry.

“Please don’t do this, T. Please just… let him go.” Damian was pleading. That was unusual.

Tim smirked. “Wow, that’s a _good_ point D. Maybe I’ll repent.”

Damian frowned. “So it’s going to be like that?”

“Isn’t it always?” Tim didn’t wait for an answer. He attacked Damian, feinting to the left and aiming to the right leg. Damian caught the feint and blocked the staff to his leg. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Make the time. Because you’re not getting past me.”

“I thought you’d say that.” Tim readied his weapon and Damian readied his only to watch dumbly as Tim faked a low blow then used the staff to vault over Damian.

Damian growled and Tim gave him a small salute before disappearing into the riot. Damian dove after him but was sidetracked when Killer Moth decided to punch him.

Tim wove through the crowd before being tackled to the ground by… nobody. Or more importantly NoBody. “Hey, Maya. Long time no see.”

An image above him flickered, her suit came into view then just as fast as it appeared it was gone. Just a confirmation. Tim raised his staff to try and protect himself from a blow but she twisted it away from him. It _clang_ ed as it rolled away. “No.”

Tim didn’t bother responding. He threw out a punch and Maya waved it off exasperatedly. “ _Fine._ ” She growled. Tim was ready for more attacks when something _whamm_ ed into where NoBody was supposed to be, sending her flickering body flying into the wall of the courthouse.

“ _Go_!” Wonder Girl shouted at Tim as she flew past him. Tim bounced to his feet and continued to run. The next blocks were the new ones: Batgirl and Robin. _Seriously?_

Tim didn’t even wait before he threw himself into the fight. Batgirl caught his fist, and kicked at him. He flipped away narrowing his eyes. Robin made a move to go forward but Batgirl held out her arm, telling him to stay back. Batgirl sent a kick at him and he dodged it, sending a back kick at her. She batted it aside like it was nothing. The next flurry of attacks were deflected, and Tim tried-he really _really_ tried not to give in to the Ra’s. But his mind stopped (there was almost nothing scarier than his mind stopping, than losing control, as he watched himself fight to stay alive, to stay safe, to get what he wanted he felt like crying, he was gone, this monster was in his place, and this monster would kill Cass he had to save her) and he fought like he had earlier that night. He grabbed her arm, halting a punch, and flipped her. He pushed her against the ground only to be pounced upon by Robin. Tim stood and threw himself onto his back, drawing a scream from Robin. His arms only tightened around Tim and Tim elbowed him, trying to get him to let go. He didn’t. “I can’t let you do this.” Jason mumbled into his ear. Batgirl stood and sent a kick to him but he rolled over so that Robin took the brunt of the attack.

“ _Ow!_ ”

“Sorry.” Batgirl mumbled.

“Let me do this? C’mon Jay, you won’t be able to beat me.” But Robin continued to hold on. Tim grabbed Robin’s utility belt and fumbled around the pockets. Either Robin would get off of him or Tim would get what he needed.

Jason began to protest but it was too late. Tim found the batarang blade and cut two thin slices through Robin’s long sleeved uniform. Jason finally shouted out and let go. _Don’t kill them don’t kill her don’t kill him don’t don’t don’t_ Tim’s hands twirled the weapons expertly between his fingers and flicked it at _don’t kill her don’t kill him don’t kill them don’t don’t don’t_ Batgirl who dodged right into Tweedledee and Tweedledum _don’t kill him don’t kill them don’t kill her don’t don’t don’t_. The two villains kept Batgirl busy and Tim turned to Jason who had been tying bandages around the slits on his arms. Tim’s mind returned to his body.

“I can’t let you do this.” Jason repeated.

“I’m doing this for us, Robin. All of this is for _us_. For me. For Steph. For you and Cass.”

“St-stop.” Jason mumbled with wide white lenses.

“Get out of here kid, get sewn up and leave all of this to me.” _Leave him to me_.

“I can’t-“

“Please, kid. He deserves to die. If _anyone_ does, he does.”

Jason eyed him, blood leaking from his makeshift bandages. He mouthed something, so quick it might not have been anything. _Make it good._ Tim didn’t hesitate to comply. Robin fell to the ground; eyes closed and body limp. Tim leapt over him.

He jumped over the Judge’s Bench and was five inches away from the Joker. _Five_. Then the Bat was in front of him, arm up blocking him from hurting the clown. He didn’t speak. Neither did Tim. They just fought. No communication necessary.

“ _Ooooo_ , don’t _I_ feel special?” The Joker giggled. “Fighting over _moi_? You _shouldn’t have_! AHahahaha!” He took out a gun and pointed at Tim who kicked it out of hand while shoving a hand into Batman’s bladder. “Aww! You’re no fun.”

Tim slapped the sides of Batman’s mask, hitting every secret button (which controlled things from his lenses vision to his comms) he could. Hopefully that would keep him busy for two seconds. Tim turned around sending a punch into the Joker’s chest. The white wigged man let out a heavy breath. “You know, I heard I had a groupie but I didn’t know he’d try to _kill_ me! Harles just said ya wanted an autograph!”

Tim was a hundred percent positive that Harley Quinn did, in fact, _not_ say that. Tim heard a growl that could only be his adoptive father’s from behind him and ducked. The Batman hit the maniac in the face, breaking his pale nose. The Joker snorted, choking on some of his own blood, and wiped at his dripping nose furiously. Tim elbowed him to the mouth and swiped at Batman’s utility belt (he needed better security on those things) crushing a smoke bomb between his fingers. Batman threw himself at the only movement he could see and landed on the Joker who gave him a stretched grin. “Aww Batsy! Not in front of the _kids_!”

The Joker had a handful of glowing green teeth.

_Kryptonite._

Batman pushed himself off of the Joker with a disgusted growl and Tim stumbled around for the gun he had kicked out of the Joker’s hand. The smoke dissipated and in a second three things happened at once. Batman cried out the Red Hood’s name, his real name. Tim aimed the gun at the Joker, took a deep breath ( _ignore it all, just point_ ) and fired.


End file.
